Here I am, twenty kilometers from
the nearest highway back south, exposing lightning to my brain like photographs that I’d forgotten; see when I forget, you remember in flashes, because I was young when you sang in dots and dashes.
Here I am, twenty years of post-womb pre-natal experience, floating in shore and sky like primordial pulp finding the moon in the pearly whites of the sky.
Here I am, twenty, hair wet from swimming in the sky, tired eyelids pulling over peepholes with a child who saw too much before she understood.
Here I am: