In your eyes, the Amazon breathes: lustrous night, shivering heat, air that weaves through avenues of vines, frond skyways. Sweltering season reigns. Spider monkey thoughts, flamingo inspirations surge with possibility. Canopy lashes absorb the rain. If I could shrink and spring into that land, transcend American frontiers, hoist my torch, rope, and machete, ape the parrots’ caws and learn the natives’ names, I’d meet you every night among the orchids and the rubber trees, the otters and the manatees: I’d dream of you in Portuguese.
Adam P. Davis grew up in Maryland, majored in French at Wesleyan University, and received his masters degrees in both political science at Columbia University and supply chain management at Purdue University. He has taught English at several community colleges and spent a year in Shanghai. Currently, he works in the logistics industry. He has been published in Poets Reading the News, Meniscus, Glassworks Magazine, and the Free State Review.