Sun, Suna, Sunaofying

I first met language
the earlobe.

It hummed like a distant
because ours was out of

petrol. It went:
before cracking open

into a word:
ghar, my home.
I sun: I listen, I am

numb. An action
born from within
my inability to act.

In language I had two
mothers teach me about
tone and precision.
Suna: to make listen.
So listen if I split
a word in half, send it

across borders, if it finds
a suffix, and transforms
to meaning: in my mouth

it has a ghar
with no
slanted walls.

Italicized words may look
like a bird flying,
but words are still rigid.

Sentences are sutured mid-air
then fall
down on a page,

swatted flies no longer
shifting in silence
between memory and moment.
Tell me, does my split
tongue make me
a snake In your garden?

Will you sunnaofy me
at the sound
of my non-words?

At the hodgepodge of
my generator? Sunnaofy:
to yell at

or to lecture. Yet
the hyphen has always
been a site

of mutual de
-construction, where
languages untie their

robes, let fall their names,
naked now
with fingers interlacing.

follow the moon

maybe i wake and feel the wind move through my body
/ but she reminds me what love lives in this skin, / says stay. says stay anyways.


He did not tell me he eyed the new satellite /
and imagined rolling him in the /
valleys of his fingers.