not a place we can go to have my grandmother tell you again how my uncle was born with a tooth.

where slavery just a star watched and watching and **** just a rainbow bent to its work.

where babies are shaken like hollow gifts and we want people and the emptiness of people put to death.

where grey flutes billow.

where milk is in our blood and ghost letting.

where hope is ugly but don’t tell it.

where fathers disappear into the dashboards of looted trucks taking with them their once employed hands and taking with them the heat of those hands.

where disappear is not a word we lightly loft.

where envy is the work of nearby grass.

where a man moves over a woman so that she is equal and equally ransacked
of travel.

where in a field this far away one can do finders keepers to a body scraped at by others and poked.

where a pill is like a mouth but smaller. but wants a bottle. and roots at the tip of your tongue.