I mourn the part of me that must have died
to be surprised by such a thing.

The juice of it all, irrepressible. Against all / you’d win.

First fell the angels.
Second fell their father.

It’s you, / oversized and badly stitched.

My mother was one of a few Koreans in an area of mostly Latinos, who worked
under the metal roof of an abandoned warehouse converted into a shopping
emporium—car stereos, healing potions, sneakers, gold jewelry, toys.

then the explosion.