What I Mean When I Tap the Heart Button
(on a tweet by Ada Limón)
Day four of your trip cross-country
with your mother: You touched the Pacific.
You said, ‘First we thought we saw a shark,
but it was a man. Then we saw a man,
but it was an otter. Then we saw a whale.’
A white bird whispers such thoughts from you.
He looks nothing like a gull, fits neatly in my pocket.
He tells me also, if I want, about the sailors
on the ship from Joppa. They draw lots.
They ask: What is your occupation? and What country
do you come from? Of what people are you?
We spoke only once. So how clearly I receive you
can’t be right, texting from the belly of a fish.