In stages I grew estranged from you tipping forward to be birthed wondering where Iāve spent myself Here I have no name I am quilted with textures that abrade me I am cold bleeding stories that are frozen I earn to be disturbed by song to be awakened by boiling light to chance speech in accents that betray me Amongst hidden memories I discover companies made of villages cornels cut from ministry White clothes buried scattered under years of fallen trees baptized with soil planting leaves leaving trails backwards testing that I follow testing that I look that I dig and I find that it threatens me to know I may have been born at the edge of an arrival
-anique










