In Custody and Other Poems


In Custody

What to eat
if no dreams arrive,

I have written the word for distance
upon your tongue. It is a field of almond trees


sharp like the seams of a Kashmiri wind.
You return to the country that is no longer—


Make haste, my love, I am redrawing the scale
of escape, this ledger of sounds shall reach. Please go


to the end of this sentence and retrieve our season
from the men who stole sweetness from your mouth.


Exile

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