Full Moon in Saipan

July 26, 2009 § 5 Comments

figure45

 

 

 

 

 

Our van stops for two women and the
crowd blocking the road; chest to chest, they scowl.
Moon-cast shadows grey the scene.
I love this island and its full-moon night, this spine road
that splits the land and sea.
Two moons, I think, how lucky, one from my bed at home,
and now here, on this military isle.
Public argument is unusual; the island is a peaceful one.
The van idles, I look towards the sea.

The waves foam and I feel it: Old bones trembling, shaking
off their coral coats, families rising from Suicide
Cliff. The sea groans. It’s a march
home, to Japan, a tsunami of regret.

On the land side of the road, the earth follows.
Rusted tanks emerge, throwing off their grassy cloaks.
The ground burps weapons,
underground shelters blink in white moon glow.
Toothless, they cross the road and sink into
the waves.

The island rocks and sways.
The women laugh and
disappear in the crowd, the crowd into
the trees, the shadows fill the gaps.

I am here, without my passport, free.

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§ 5 Responses to Full Moon in Saipan

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