Unsung Poem by Erin Suurkoivu

This is nothing of what the bards sing-
A desire for code name Heroin
Or a crash-landing in Sicily
That didn't break the moon.

But then I make these things iconic.
I hear his hair is growing thin!
I stand here appreciated puckish,
Your pet, but marking what is his & hers.

I am a rock and roller on this moonscape.
I sing against the silence.
I find muses not by air,
But by smoke and fire.

Roasted cherry,
I am no longer choking on coffee cherries.
I see beyond the horizon,
Though the race is long to get there.

And is it my bravery
That will see me through?
I won't fret. After so many lefts,
I shine it on like a lantern.

I've relinquished my umbrage.
There is only the native path,
Softly beaten by your moccasins,
That leads to our bees and sauna.

I sleep by the ocean nightly.
Your arm
Is a sandbar
Beneath my pillow, beneath my head.