and big logs—with frayed corners
that speak of ancient birds and time—
move about gently, barely breathing in
the pulse that scurries down the curved
ploy of this golden afternoon / this hour
has brought mirrors and scattered faces
we shape with our hands in water / we
can end this peaceful truce with our feet,
and yet we don’t, we choose to stay within
this gnamma of possibilities / we choose
to be these bodies that someone or something
else chose for us in the first place / we see
our own reflection at some point, we smile
believing in ghosts and responsibility / we
think this day is ours, although nothing is,
so we fathom a color, we trace the horizon
with a rock, and at dusk we pray to immensity

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Marina Burana 明蓮花 is an Argentine writer of Algerian and Italian descent, based in Taiwan. She writes both in English and Spanish and keeps a journal in French and Chinese. She has published three books of short stories and her work has appeared in various journals, newspapers and magazines. Marina is also a painter, an amateur violinist/violist, a puppeteer, and a facilitator of participatory art projects for different types of communities. She is currently a poetry reader for The Adroit Journal.

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