Flat maps, globes, small flashing square on the phone screen—
surely cartographers master more ways to wrap rivers
onto the stained blue-green of anxious oceans. My throat,
clenched and dry after the morning news, throbs. A mountain
in the way of swallowing. Swathes of arid desert unmollified
despite honeyed tea in my mug. Texas wildfire, coastal flood
explosions across the Middle East that scatter blood to the clouds.
Without warning, sunspots threaten radiation. Suppose I inked this
on my skin, the war zones and torture, the anger, fear
wrapping my chest and the wings of my shoulders in agony,
one pinpoint at a time. Each needle jab pressing blue shellfish
and orange squid juices beneath my thin and aging skin.
As design takes shape, form emerging from fog, coastline &
extinct volcano & secret valleys, rage & regret & despair
cartography of grief. Love’s terrible and costly terrain.
Mapping the Mission
Art © David Kessan. All rights reserved.
