window seat
facing forward
racing westward on rails;
every twist a next vista
the last
... [+]
One slow breath in and a single syllable out: amá
Gentle on the tongue, bitter in the lungs.
I never asked him why he cried out for her but I think it was because we want, so greedily, to somehow squeeze into a fetal position and remain in our mother’s heart for as long we can.
Carved deep, sewn slowly.
Nestled deep in her chest, near her neck, closer to the clavicle.