for Amanah
us two- a sunspot fried
a full pot of bindi
seven spices & a laughter with
all permissions special
a pair of dark wood rotting
misplaced on beach of
sands a crystal ivory
& sea a sanctioned foam
only us, chosen fires
know the work of salvage
know to take the wedge
slide it to lifeless in our
cratered mouths dense with
burden of forgotten language
heavy and uncompromising
sharp teeth of a comb escaping
into harvesters of blonde strings
raking and raking
we the in-between generation
we who love to wipe the
crisp bile of a ripe fruit
from our lips and know
in the deepest marrows
of the homeward canines
we are still
entitled to the sacred
meat of our countries
and its linger in between us
we are still the children
of its oldest trees