MICRO
When my mother sat at our table
for late hours of statistics homework,
biting the corners of her lips,
I felt prophecy swell without translation,
so I studied, taking comfort in the closest
I could get: my mother brawling—
head down, grinding each equation,
my whole life set in her jaw.
MICRO
We are one tremendous
field of undulating
flowers
waiting till it happens
MICRO
The room becomes a red flag, / a bloody mist silhouette / of all my ghosts.
MICRO
came up for breath only once / came up to speak only once / came up herself only once,
