I didn’t know what to do with my body after being born,

so I sat with sadness, floating around in her bowl like that.

Can I touch you, I asked?


I did. I called you two minutes later,

after taking a bath,

after biting my wrist instead. You said,


I said, The sky! It’s wearing herself thin today.

You said, Should I send for flowers?

No. No. Just your voice takes me there.


You know, where I’m flying above a corn field,

touching the tips of things, imagining it’s your hair,

then my hair as a child,

and I love everything in pain and everything singing.


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