Erwin Fernandez

Where real borders memory
she swims slowly, ponderous-
at times, tired of paddling,
rests just below the surface.

Longing for land, she ascends
bringing sea foam and scents
of hibiscus bubbles and taro.
Dredged from seabed – they rise

like the dum-da-dum-da-dum
of goanna skin drums wafting
through the air on tribal loop,
heralding her sandy arrival.

On my shore not-so-sure
she lays down a bilum bag
of paradise feathers and cowrie
as if to say: It was real. Then dives-

Orphaned on the coast of imagining,
I long for the touch of a sea turtle.