Freight cars, barely any stops. Rising stench. Some say,We’ll get shot in the woods. Others say, They’ll waste us away building dams, roads.Nobody knows.It’s all happening now & now—a shard of my mother’s soulthrobbing inside my throat.As she speaks, she hands me a shot glass, the convex meniscus of moonshineshuddering with the train’sclickety-clack.Me, I say, …
Grandma floats over the stovetop— a cloud of light Edges of her soiled robe skim the kitchen floors I sit by her side small like a child I’m all mouth— the rest of the body an afterthought Please forgive me for always thinking about food Jittery jewels of meat jelly laced with fat, jam-topped pancakes …
Luminous—the ink you pouraround bullet holesto paint blooms pain turned topetals, terror—tostyle and stigma Ovaries fill withjuice, and we too learn:lives are fragile & can get broken As for life, it says yesAlways—yes No usedenying it