Nikumaroro
for HRC
by Andrew Chapman
Sand and salt, no
landing strip to speak
of little girls in goggles,
they waited, they still do.
400 miles short, horizon
won’t reveal the sun
boils, spits bitterness,
leaks gas on the
sand. Faded photos, un-
built statues fill fake
memories, we wrote down
too soon.
What remained you
gave to the crabs, buried
nothing for us to find, to
point out and say was yours.
for HRC
by Andrew Chapman
Sand and salt, no
landing strip to speak
of little girls in goggles,
they waited, they still do.
400 miles short, horizon
won’t reveal the sun
boils, spits bitterness,
leaks gas on the
sand. Faded photos, un-
built statues fill fake
memories, we wrote down
too soon.
What remained you
gave to the crabs, buried
nothing for us to find, to
point out and say was yours.