Travel (Please)
Adrienne Copeland
Let’s throw sand across an atlas
to tell us whereto next,
let broken compasses direct us
back to each other—
teach the shore to be courageous
and not veil itself with the tide,
and mountains to paint with watercolors
a backdrop of the sky.
We’ll collect the stars
and loan them to the restless sea,
teach the sun and moon to play together
to erase time—
pull the seams of all state borders
to ricochet between rolling fields,
and when cliffs leave us breathless,
streams will whisper our words.
So let’s wander from navigated lines
on concrete pavement:
Let’s evaporate into the sky,
travel past the clouds,
and scatter as raindrops
in new ground we’ll call our own.
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