…braids you pulled as a child
you call back from the blood-splattered
meadow and the hot kisses
smelting you together under
watchful moon that
you blame for the foreign dreams
or forgotten bloodletting
Your spirit dances in the yards
of the pious white men and
in school orphans
where you disposed your last smile
reflex vomiting
brain unwired
from spit or swallow
no light no wind
The sequence of the film
becomes slippery like
memory of an aged man…
