we
unknit our minds those vital fears while
begging
mother: please dismount or kill my
horse,
while a baby was such sweet poison.
wraiths
play Double Dutch an ankle is chained
our
foremothers are fluffing cotton: pricks or
stitches
where whelps look like mountains.
it’s
been difficult hauling, those inherited flames
so
entailed by trembling palms. torn syrup
patches
or bushes so ancient or emotion so
unlike
me. to grovel to inner pictures to feel a
hand
while closed eyes awoken to a kiss. just
hanging
in limbo, between a scar, or inhaling a
mantra:
such dear Bhakti or ruined phones
while
reaching guts is tragic symphony.
