I wish we'd met while it lived; that it had taught me moth-tongue.

inching forward like us once hurt,
and goddammit, still trying.

Above me, the sun turns my country to a boil.

I used
to laugh so my friends would call me
a queen.

He pushed me, playing the part.

Apo comes home with a new hip, a bowl made of copper that we touch through her sweater.