There was a moment before the bullock
broke its calf. Father. Far~ther. Language
suffers at the pang of an howling tongue.
After every syllable, my memory
freezes like blue flame. I silhouette
as a shadow consuming darkness like
caffeine. My jug overflows and its epilepsy
is an ocean prowling me. My testament,
a dead reckoning. Something cleaves me ajar
and I become an unlaced shoe. There is
clarity in the encyclopedia of my chaos.
Nothing is truer until it is believed.
Like crisp sheets under the rain, I let
a stranger’s hand offer me warmth.
My devotional is un-remembering truth.
You will save me, won’t you?