http://ia300209.us.archive.org/1/items/GeoffreyPhilpExile6/Exile_4.mp3
The poem is from Florida Bound.
Exile
It is wanting to hear the lisp
of the sea, curled on the tongues of passersby.
It is wanting to smell the wind, heavy
with rain, wrap itself in the skirts of trees.
It is wanting to see the sun slide
down banana leaves into the thighs of a valley.
It is wanting to taste beads of tamarind
that drip from terraced hillsides.
It is wanting to feel the pulp of star-apple,
its dark flesh, moist between my hands.
It is, it is wanting you.
***
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