Ash fell upward. Glass grew teeth. I kissed the screaming soil and fed it names. Rain stitched scars into my shadow, and the rivers coughed blood backwards. I walked— on broken calendars, through rusting alphabets. Where do graves go when the sky forgets them? Where do prayers go when no one lies anymore? Breathe the wound. Breathe the wound. Let the silence shatter its own ribs. The oceans peeled their skins. The bones of mountains hummed requiems. I built a house from the echo of thunder, and no door, no windows, only wind that remembers war. Mother of rust, Father of dust, I am the child your forgetting bore. Breathe the wound. Breathe the wound. The world bleeds / inside my throat. Swallow the sun / stitch the horizon shut / Nameless / I bloom / in the wound / of the world.
