bone black tense fleeing
from the jagged in my mouth
oil gleams in the wells
of your palms
(even in my dreams I am rusting over,
the wrong shade of sorry)
I spilled kumkum yesterday
(too much red for a roofless house)
a month from now
I promise to
visit this place awake,
(they’ll mention the bird
that followed me there
molting plumage in
a weeping sky)
dog was howling
at the bricks, I say,
neighbor chopping beans
(this city is too noisy)
counting almonds,
dripping sugar cane juice,
once, I dreamed
this kitchen mine,
dusty corpse full of
yellowed jars.