I wrap my mother’s body in a small blanket. She is light in my arms. Sprawled by a fig tree, my father asks, Are
Fact: I do strike twice. Fact: not one blade of whirling grass can side- step my burst, divergent lightbulbs. I plant my thoughts where
periodically I seek you out online someone I don’t want to know about hope to find you- tubes or real estate listings hope you’re