Loving paradise on the edge of America at the first frontier.
by Pandora Peoples
Pele flows like red blood
From the moon-crater lips
Of the island peaks,
Her tresses are blackened Iliahi trees,
The bleached corals
Are fossilized milk
From her watery breasts
Giving life to the animals at sea.
Her fiery blood courses
Into the frothy waves,
A marriage of fire and water
Is celebrated by the honks
And drumming groans of the Nene goose,
She purges dormant emotions
Hidden like crabs underneath buried rocks.
A wild orchestra of rain releases pain
In droplets like musical notes from heaven,
Tapping on faces that open
Like fragrant lokelanis,
Pele cools under the beaming stars
With the breeze whistling
Through the ironwoods and banyan trees,
With sky chairs creaking in trade winds.
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