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