The isthmus
was the adhesive
always holding us
together,
like fraternal twins
conjoined,
locked
by a crooked rib.
And though it looked
quite thin,
brittle and ready to
snap,
the mightiest ships
of imperial fleets
could only
turn away,
to round Cape
Horn at a crawl,
to meet Pacific waves.
El Canal de Panamá,
christened in
’14,
in the summer
of the Serbian
shot.
Yes, this brings us Yen and Yuan. Yes, this hews in half the journey. But brother, earthen-brother, your breath is not as close, and strangers sail the space between our scars.
Andreas Gripp
RF Image
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