there is __a__ black sky hovering over my polity
& that is why i burn our hearts and count
our brother’s tears with ink hoping/waiting
[country men] [willing]
to escort its flames above the dark clouds
praying mother into its flesh. last night
i saw a bridge/god/future beckoning me
to cross this border/ body just like how father
[every dead man]
did, on the night patriotic bullets escorted his/their
forehead into the shadow. you see, this poem
is ____ a boy painting migration with another country’s skin.
the one i would merge into my vessel
with legs and breath as cowries for bargain at the border
of this country.