I dream
of your mouth.
tunneling the same
stolen land. I wait
for your tenderness.
bleeding along
a foreign border,
I was born
In awe. of your green
stone eyes. and I knew
no freedom. not sutured
into arms weeping
with sweat and rosewater.
Not now
in this hold.
that crumbles
as the tax man,
form in hand,
sings
in clean black lines.