4 “Yemeni Earth Tones for Breakfast” by Trajan Wells

Everyday is the same. new !

roll like a log into a discolored river

looking for colors of blues in bodies of water that are never naked

I wake ! each step a dip into the cold ocean and back

in my wake,

the whole old walled city in my cup

the buildings that have fallen in Sana’a

have stood back up. And many beautiful ones have refused to stumble

the mountains that grow with each day in Mocha grow within me now, too

the steam and dark earth, choco bars swirled from fruit and trees into hot water

earth tones on my tongue

One sip ! jet skis on my feet

keeping my head outta cold water

and into lush Haraz mountains

layers of grass-covered slices of cake and people who talk with honey in their voices

they have saved me a place above the clouds

where I can steal oranges from the sun

I am caffeinated. I sing in the loudest voice I have, songs of nothing but the ground itself, the rising ledges of Arabica fields sing back for the first time.

in a voice I have somehow known all my life

I walk at mach 3+ speeds with nowhere to go, each step writing my thoughts on the pavement, the Yemeni mountain greens sneak up underneath me, they lift me like a child on their shoulders

I tell stories of absolute madmen, of myself and those I hope to meet.

the geometric shapes of Islam, sandstone tans outlined in white over all the buildings stacked like moving boxes, here to stay

they watch over me like new friends, I am the mountains they watch at home.

The moment to climb comes

I arrive ahead of time

I am ready to climb with no ropes

soon the rest of the world will wake up

and pick up the same chipped cup

taking a drink with me

the language of taste Yemen has shared with us all

up the red rocks and unmapped precambrian murals

another sip