Wishing You Best Luck As Always And Forever Poem by Natasa To

The red rose retreats and is getting red again.
You to speak of, anywhere—either in vicinity or distance,
so I look at the ocean blue sea water, the icy egret,
shaking in the wind, the blue ocean—no, I am not lying.
There are icy egrets here, no sea water. Most of the time,
my mind shakes such ridiculous fictions.
My phone notes littered with lines like wishing will save you.
Or: mouthwash, yogurt, sweet sugar.
A blue bird zips past me, its luminescent plumage
disturbing my eyes like a tiny dorsal fin.
But what I want does appear. Instead, I find the blueberries and pines,
figs that have unfilled and burst open on the wet pavement,
announcing that sickly sweet honey,
the sweetness of grief, my prayer for what is wished.
You are so romantic, I say to the reflection on my phone,
then order the collected novels of Shakespeare.
He, too, was humiliated by his body, that it wanted
such stupid, simple things: fruits and cherry wine, to touch me.
On my daily walk, I wish George Fuji apple from my neighbors' backyard,
a small strawberry. Instead of eating them,
I observe his casual rot on the kitchen, with wishing him best luck always and forever.