excerpt:
<blockquote>Ma does tell me I just like my father.
These days, down to the exhaustion.
I wouldn’t know. My young memory only have
three saved dates of his face,
the desire to cling to someone’s hand
and having nothing worth grabbing.
I don’t know where he lived, or
where he was when he died,
only that when my ma vex, suddenly
my skin putrid like he own.</blockquote>
