You Are An Island Poem by Mathias Svalina

You are an island. People live on you; things grow on you; people build things on you. Half of the people carry compasses, the other half mechanical pencils. You might have to say a few things about love here. You tap your foot gently on the hardwood floor. You have a mechanical pencil with no more leads; you repeatedly press your thumb to the eraser & it clicks. A high-pitched whine oscillates in & out of your range of hearing. You have lost your compass. It is up to those people who live on you, building their theme parks in the shape of beached frigates, to find the direction & to write it down. About love, the more said, the better.