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,


in clean black lines.