father i river river up my boatless memory
learn the darkness    from the whittled smoke-language of my muffled tongue
i don't know how i got here  where mothers soften even their dead
with their sweat-sculpting arms   father  i too want to fall into my mother's
forgiving palms                  practice dying & open my eyes the very next day
i want to learn hunger   count nouns with my lips
                                             but they balloon like tulips   turn liquid   & slither
                                                    to the floor

mother       i wish someone could see me
               to make them notice i twist my worm-ankle against the curb i insist—
to make them notice    i insist—on falling
                          i know i know that body comes first
       & then the palpable wound
                does that mean that i   bodiless as i am       can never be wounded?
then why do i cry like a whirlpool gathering?

father      there's a river down below the worn-out earth-carpet
                     i see my mirror boom-blooming like a quiet volcano in the ripples
it tells me it itches like crazy        tells me it longs for my arms around it
  tells me  when it laughs its face splits open
mother  i won't lie
                 when it gets too cold around here i want to go meet it in the water
  it could be like a father to me

father   father i keep on calling you
  & yet
    you never come
                                                                                                   mother
                     to be honest
i have no memory                                                                          of you