you were warned, that your greedy digging,
your clawing fingers sinking into the earth, was just
like shooting up

you were warned, that your greedy digging,
your clawing fingers sinking into the earth, was just
like shooting up
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
before the nights we spent enameling / this reflection in my eye, my mother / danced on a fire escape / limned by black fire, and you / glowed bright with the silhouette of a camera.
my people die like a poisson process. i listen to the rain count bodies
while the thunder weeps with me.
The coyotes didn’t show themselves, no matter how hard I searched. Some nights my mom came into my room and stroked my hair before I left to search them out.
...I didn’t see this, but I read somewhere
that an orca carried her dead calf for weeks to mourn it—