Acer Sacharrum

We didn't know the guy 

in the truck 

who's that guy? 

my sister asked, 

and I wondered if city people 

expected to know everyone 

they saw around town. 

Dear Mother, 

I have missed you these past few months. 

Where did you go? 

I see you standing there, torch held high, yet you do not answer my calls. 

They dine upon marble platters, their feet draped in velvet thread,

While we dwell in the slums, substituting bread with insects instead.

They laugh over champagne, heels clacking on polished stone,

the air tastes like honey and promise 

sticky with the scent of blooming jasmine 

and freshly cut grass that crunches beneath bare feet 

the sky drips blue 

stretching wider every afternoon 

Ask for help

They tell you,

But when you do,

They refuse to give it,

Be yourself

They chant,

But when you try,

You're told to hide away. 

you're not

leaving yet. no,

i'll glue your limbs to the pavement,

lower your waving hand,

tell you

something to make your eyes crinkle

again.

again,

again,

again.