A poem in white text on a sky-blue gradient reads, “shaking/ diaspora like the language/ I wish to love you in chorus/ of hookahs/ in vigil we taste/ the salt the mourning sea soft/ like my blooming tongue will I ever/ eat again/ without thinking of your hunger/ the colour red yo’burni/ but let the rose bush sing/ etch lost flesh/l ost/ poems dizzy/ with myrrh/ though the door is open/ you have always looked/ best in gold”