it’s hard to know what i’ve truly written
and what i saved to rearrange later
but tonight a mother pulls her daughter by the hand and
walks her down the beach
thigh deep in water, a daughter holds her breath
dives under and is no longer hungry
tonight i dream her love is a needle I can see the point of

tonight i’m finished with god
i’m tired and i’d rather my words incoherent
and my eyes a distant place
tonight i’m seven and it’s the first time
i’ve breathed in to feel my rib cage
scraped clean

i sit indian style
core deep with space clear for you
a child’s heart is no place for
white powder and mailboxes
but i sat there, indian style

i cleared space for you
on the curb on palms and sawtelle
i learned here that no levee stands a chance
against people flooding over

tonight holy water burns through a house
with an ornamented christmas tree
two cars, and a beautiful daughter

i am still learning to forget claw marks
on the doorframes
that the crossing of state lines
doesn’t always turn wreckage to flowers