Ligo, I take the bones out, so malleable, almost a false existence
on my tongue. Sardines seeped in tomatoes, a salt
swept from wooden boats. The day is so
wounded, rag & lemon aroma against panels.

Uncovered feet, up & up. In the mirror, again:
a happy girl practicing
a lola-stare. Must I always crave rice,
the sureness of what it does to me?

Grainy like my father. Grainy like the language
I use with him. He complains
that I only call him when I need money.
One day after fourth grade, I cried cause

I was hungry. He told me to go to my
room, so I did. Kneeling, I wished
to sink into the unwelcomed carpet, fly
like a gnat into an unsolvable

crossword. If America wanted me,
it wanted me large. I wanted to
stand against the stove & waft eternal
fish into being, then swallow them whole.

No one would be around. I’d be happier, gills
shimmering but never white.
I pull the blinds down, flip my fingers until
clean & smelly. Reflective.