Don't you know? A woman's love

neglects pride

the way fire

neglects the cries

of what it burns. My son,

even tomorrow

you will have today.



There are men who touch breasts

like the tops of skulls.

There are men who carry dreams

over mountains, the dead

on their backs.
But only a mother can walk

with the weight of a second

beating heart.

Stupid boy.

You can get lost in every book

but you can never forget yourself

the way god forgets his hands.



When they ask you

where you're from,

tell them your name

was fleshed from the toothless mouth

of a war-woman.
That you were not born—

but crawled, headfirst—

into the hunger of dogs.

My son, the body is a blade

that sharpens

by cutting.