I stay in the dark, a folded strip of tree, a gash
Of sea-salt and skyscraper.
In my eye: a clink of pride, inferiority.  One like you,
Your own.

Do not forget what the crown did to Saul.  Baby hands
Touching your hair — love them,
Love their dark and lonely
Eyes and never get used to
Lítost.

The dirty rivers eat sedimentary plastic.  The craters
Are set aflame — it always hurts.  Hold it
In the palm of your soil-streaked hands, clasp it over your
Ribcage.  Give it a name.  Let it haunt you.  Remember its face like a
Revolution, its skin like a city.  Remember the tribe
That claimed you as their own.