[sterling & 14 carat gold]
For the small countries.
The nations I can stroll across in mere hours.
The worlds I can turn over in my hands
hold up to my face
and smell.
For the textures therein.
For the asylum I find when I step foot in small countries,
the quiet spaces beneath folded wings
(the political unrest I feel when we share the air of a space).
Small brown tents pitched by a cold creek.
(For the rich culture of the lines in your hands.
I want to visit your smile again. And again.
I crave the sunsets no one else saw.)
(For the coups you hold over my heart
when you walk through a room
when you cross these borders
and force me to hold up a white flag.)
For international boundaries, passport check stations, brusque military personnel.
For the small countries,
the countries with ever shifting borders, ever expanding
predicaments,
lively bazaars
and white doves.
For the nation of me and the nation of you.
Small and spinning,
fine and young.
