Rhodes

Forged into memory like sea-
carved shore: the Aegean
sun tinged our flesh through
gaps of linen fiber.

A fiction, pages wavy from
splash and dry, laid ajar
upon Her napping breast.
Foreign faces looked like mine.

I remember the sweet
saliva that drew from saltine
lips’ embrace, and the voiceless
stares we traded for nothing.

I remember we couldn’t
describe the color blue.