Border

I stand in waist-deep leaves

lose droughts, lose floods;

Retrieve a Famine

from soil grinded out of Bronze.

I’m holding my empty Organs

like holding a bowl never filled

& waiting for Moon

to stamp on my porcelain Stomach.

There will be a lark

that splits open my Heart

to build a Nest out of it

& sing a tune

to my sister with a white name.

The hunger of Teeth bites open my Shoulders.

Forest dawns where Fire is absent:

Clouds burn out crimson wounds in the Sky.

Birds that fetch words back to drown the Ocean

Gush out of all my joints.

2022.7.9

Telephone