I am from the river
a birds eye view will see a brown, heavy snake
and getting closer,
you’ll smell my mothers tainted blood.

I am from a bright and hazy morning
rough grass on my back
my skin slicked with atmospheric oil
and every decomposing thing

I am from the nest
where mold grows
and tiny toys rest on shelves
lined up to proclaim the living
and the barely hanging-on

the rocking ship
the stilted legs
the ripped concrete
the sweet scent of night

my soul, a silver bubble
risen from her and carried
a thousand miles north into the grey and dusty places
you can’t see from below

I am given
to the dry and clean day-break
the imposing land who sees you
who sees you and sees you and never stops watching.
the eyes of my neighbors, all the same and silent.

each footstep
an ask
and a quiet permission given
quiet quiet quiet quiet
and a sense of sharp eyes