A VIEW OF IT
unlike last time,
there are no leaves on the ground.
no buses
the salt does not come
to melt the snow
in the bodega,
i undress myself on the counter
for a drink and a magazine.
your mother calls on the train ride home.
i lose my coat behind the couch
IT LAYS ITS ARMS
it is quiet in the city
the water
brushes through the walls
of the buildings.
when it found you,
did you hear something?
did you see its read tail
escaping from your body.
you weren't,
so suddenly,
like fallen earth or,
like a killer had broken onto you
in the night.
a child,
summer's bomb.
(i wish you were again,
green,
or being held in a field
for safe keeping.)
5.
it used to take him years
to notice my scars.
on my phone there
is an image of him.
sitting down
crosslegged
by what i imagine
is a fire.
"it is a root," my father once said.
i believe he was talking about Yuca,
or the heart.
