I lead my cousin’s hand to the belly of a sleeping schoolgirl.  the belly is six months out and could survive a mouthful of prose.  cousin has kids of her own.  cousin prefers the word listless to the word unborn.  the schoolgirl reminds my cousin of someone I knew.  a bodyguard.  a bodyguard as far as school age bodyguards go.  the recall puts me beneath a porch at age fourteen

     giving birth to something boneless.  I am trying to hear it explode in the present.  I ask the lord’s television to lure my cousin from the scene.  I ask the lord for custody of any tornado

warning
scrolling under
a muted
cartoon.