Acer Sacharrum

Two doors, both locked, neither mine.
Two names, one I gave up.
Two voices, both demanding I choose.
A home is a shelter. A home is a question.

They say the world was once wider, 
measured in scraped knees and firefly nights, 
in the space between streetlights, 
where time was counted in the hush before dinner. 

The binary code is plastered everywhere

from the billboard of the new romance movie

to the books that have shaped our history. 

The binary code is ingrained in our heads

as we see the magazines, 

your features don’t contort when you cry.

tears skate down your face until they get caught

on the side of your nose 

or  the tip of your chin