Bali

Like a talisman, Bali rests in my mind.

Like a smooth semi-precious stone, a poet’s amethyst,

Bali is there.

I close my eyes, its Ubud at night.:

gamelan trickling, lights in the trees.

I undress and the wet morning heat breathes on my body.

At work, I drink Bali from the ambient side

of the water-cooler. Bali reclines,

teases me from rice-terraces,

calls from the monkey-forest.

Like the biggest fiercest monkey it tugs

at the strap on my bag, grabs at my shoulder.

Won’t leave me. Won’t let me go.