THE BODY IS NOT A THING TO ESCAPE
I am without speech.
My nonverbal communication is that the body is sign of love.
If I were to say something, it would be: Grandfather,
look, I have a sister you never got to meet.
When she sings, I hear the lullaby
the Death March failed to take from you.
I see your body walking on any day but that
and walking on that day, too. My sister:
you would love her: the body of her words:
a hunger that turns a fork into a hand:
your hand upon my mouth: holding my mouth quiet:
no, keeping it from biting its tongue.