Don't you know? A woman's love
neglects pride
the way fire
neglects the cries
of what it burns. My son,
even tomorrow
you will have today.
There are men who touch breasts
like the tops of skulls.
There are men who carry dreams
over mountains, the dead
on their backs.
But only a mother can walk
with the weight of a second
beating heart.
Stupid boy.
You can get lost in every book
but you can never forget yourself
the way god forgets his hands.
When they ask you
where you're from,
tell them your name
was fleshed from the toothless mouth
of a war-woman.
That you were not born—
but crawled, headfirst—
into the hunger of dogs.
My son, the body is a blade
that sharpens
by cutting.