a curse of islands

there’s a possibility
loneliness might be genetic,
but I just cannot prove it

if no man is an island,
can an island become a man?

I feel for my father
I feel for my grandfather
I feel for my great grandfather

did life land on us?
did we land on life?
were we never completely born?

through the fog and stones
that the light divides,
this place is no more to blame
than tropomyosin
in my blood,
which can cause my death,
epicureal and real epic

but like my allergies to shellfish,
I cannot date back
to where I first started
being lonely

did it begin with my father?
did it begin with my grandfather?
did it begin with my great grandfather?

there’s a thread in here

and it’s been going for so long,
that I recently discovered
cobwebs under my breath

yes, I have had to renounce
edibles from the sea,
a necessary determination
and a ridiculous curse
for someone who lives
in an island

time must have lost its compass, too,
shipwrecked and indifferent,
oblivious to its own nature,
and so a day feels like years

my mouth is coral reef
my beard is the mangrove
my body smells like saltpeter

under the wind’s muzzle
and the chant of mermaids,
I become one with the eroded sand