portion of the artwork for Iris Litt's poem

To a Married Lover
Iris Litt

I am the foreign land.
I am that which small planes fly to.
Mango skin   ruddy frangipani cheek
over me, thatch   outside, hooved feet

my warmth is all tropics

I am the timeless place.
Ancient Indian gods chant over the villages I am:
all places where the road goes no farther.

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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 52 | Fall/Winter 2018