by Doreen Beyer
He wears the eyes of his ancestors,
small dots
the sharp points of bird bone,
black indelible eyes
enormous with the weight of knowledge.
Crescents,
arcs of shark teeth that track
his lineal descendance from the gods,
a genealogical map of the heavens—
dualism of heaven and earth,
a universe of lights and yet…
the night.
Doreen Beyer spent her childhood growing up in Honolulu. She works as a school nurse and carves out time to pursue her favorite pastimes of hula and poetry. She currently lives in “the island of Sacramento,” California, with her husband and two old dogs.
Hawaii Pacific Review 