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— Cynthia Dewi Oka

The ocean pulls, is pulled,
                                                pulling back like a bed cover, but

instead of drape, rears
            up on legs,                  foam-

                                    flower legs, banished
            from the light legs with the deep

wide scars of rock and glue.

                                                crushing, crushes bone. Covers

the sky, the blue-
                                    black with the blacker drugged
                                                dance of whales crossing out

the staring starred     harpoon tips.
                                                            Mountains, cliffs
                                                                        drum up stampede

                                                                                    legs, bulbous, boiling

the patience-less legs. Water has
                                    an angering velocity, god’s debasement

                                                            hovers. Ran-after


                                    bounces off the smooth-lid
                                    father’s head, like a bottle’s

shiny, shined, lying simile                             because he hated, is hated,
                                                Breathless run,
wrung mother,
                                    sister already out of sight,

bright fire                   barking eyed,              eyeful of the forest of dogs

have been loosened, lure

                        of the delinking muscles.       A blinkered

moon into
a mouth

the size of a basement,           a bulb with waving, waived

                                    legs. Follow. Breathe heat

in endangered ocean
air, airing

                                                armed teeth. Arms, white as the whetting
roof, looks
                                                up brief, flanks of god’s
                                                beef, our cysts of fat,

                                                                                    fragility. Will remember

the floor ended,

                        is an ending quickly, then mouth
                                                            through mouth,
                                                                        the chasm and rope like tooth
edge over it, end
            to end. The crater       of father has been

                        steeping black,
polished foot after foot                      on the fraying, frays woven of arms

                                                knifed out, offering the self’s offing

            cheap metal while flames

            finger, filigreed. Greedy         the dearness of this loved

                                                with ocean
poised, poisons the missing we had been left,

                        behind this heaving
                                                mouth with the leaves
                                                                        made of dogs on the other

side. I make, am made

voice veering from the mouthed, mutinous
                        tin dying                     on tongue, volcanic while halo.
                                    Goo and grammar.

Father grass.    Father vertigo.           Father long without

                        doesn’t look back
                                    at his love, at loving
                                                                        in the ream of mine
                        flooded by moonlessness
                                                to mobius.

He was
will reach,

                                    reasoned by flames
                                                licking, whose villain
                                    language on the rope

that his is going home.
                                                                        It husks me.

            It does how
                        to resolve, this

                                                hole I hold like hellish

                                                velocity. Stopped as just is when, felled.

Read more from Issue No. 16 or share on Facebook and Twitter.