SPELL TO FIND FAMILY

for Kundiman

I thirst for the starlight

that opens elephant skin.

I thirst for the raven

conjugated into riven

by summer storm.

My job is to trick adults

into knowing they have

hearts. My heart whose

irregular plural form is

Hermes. My Hermes

whose mouths are wings

& thieves, begging

the moon for a flood

of wolves, the reddest

honey. My job is to trick

myself into believing

there are new ways

to find impossible honey.

For I do not know all the faces

of my family, on this earth.

Perhaps it will take a lifetime

(or five) to discover every

sister, brother. Heartbeat

elephantine, serpentine,

opposite of saturnine.

I drive in the downpour,

the road conjugated

into uproar, by hearts

I do not know.

By the guttural & gargantuan

highway lion. The 18-wheeler

whose shawl of mist is a mane

of newborn grandmothers.