They say that an infant’s entire connection to the world lies through their mother.
My reality, my universe
We outgrow that soon enough though.
But perhaps the lasting effects of this bond
You have whatever it is
That makes the stars
Decide to radiate their tiny
Pins of lights into the
When you left you took my sheets with you.
You took the spice wheel, my Chinese takeout place, most of the better friends
and, with any luck, two or three biting remarks cast at an already closed door.
Leaving refugee picture frames cradling smiles of illegitimate children.
Her fingertips felt like topographical maps of the Andes
pulling slowly through hair suspended in water.
My roots were in Peru and my soul was in my skin.
I needed to know how she breathed among the clouds.
I watch the fireflies
Constantly refreshing constellations
Tracing the slow paths they follow
Combing the air for affection