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.