Tell me you’re that somebodywho gets pregnant after living one month in an orphanage. Tell me you’re the one who has your baby a year later
How long I’ve dreamt of you, teenaged and long-legged, lying on our porch, your mud-speckled sandals kicked off to the side, watching a tree slowly split
We found ourselves without our grandfather. We found ourselves faced with stacks of naked women and reels of naked women. We found ourselves
When you hold a slice
of freshly cut red melon
to my lips, I drink
Sometimes I enter the small chambers of the God of Forgetting and take my place at his feet and kneel and bow my head.
From here I can see the children running across the long field
for no other reason than they are fast.