Patrick Pfister
Cameroon

You rid a sea
of waves but now the depths
rise and swallow the earth
beneath your feet.

Down into darkness you go
down deep into cathedral caves,
your spark so faint
your X-rayed lungs so ghostly white.

I call you back
to Mokolo barrio, in Yaoundé city,
where seven African Buddhists
chant for your health.

I call you back to this world
of garbage houses and cesspool lives,
where children are born to beg,
then beg to be reborn.

You rid a sea
of torrent but now undertow
swirls the nether drain-
I call you back one more time.

A syringe pushes one thousand milligrams
of light into your pinched vein,
closing your eyelids over my heart.
Down, down you go.

I call back your nectar sweetness,
vowing not to look.
I call you back.
You rid a sea.