Iraboti

The day I called you "Iraboti"

You whispered

Iraboti...Iraboti..Ira....Boti.

I could hear

dewdrops in your voice,

almost inaudible.

And that was the day

when you moved away.

You had an ocean to go to.

That was the day

I was crucified

like christ on the cross.

Nails of rejection

were both polite and impolite

Jet black sigh,

The fragrance of the ocean

The burnt umber blood stream

all wait

for an infinite darkness

For the resurrection.