which summer is this
arithmetic is one thing, freckles another
power drags from the east in a late august storm
the grassbends like earth’s gymnasts
how their hands are too silent for anumber
always pucker straight on the dismount
which tongue is this in
nadziejais one thing, hope another
anna orders meat at a counter
in her mouth, a song picked up at the company store
we pretend it was the baron who saved us
pass thenarrative, the only heirloom
between me and then, between factoriesfull
of our women and men charred from the pulse
of earth, all there is— the distance between night
-mares and perseverance
which equation is this
winter is an empty path, grandmother another
the cold bends like a map
many womenbefore me cannot refold
their hands waiting in line, cobbled latitudes of time
whosestory is this
my mother’s is one thing, eva’sanother
with pork bones in our mouths
we suck the narrative dry and soft as far aswe can
the grass is still, the mines are closed
i split what isleft with my tongue
the sound against my teeth
still asong
