NICARAGUAN NIGHTS
This dull ache at the back of my head has spread to cover most of my body. Rebound upon rebound. The heat and humid routine of living surely gets to me. We call this lack of ventilation LIFE? And it suffices for those who were born to it. But not me, daughter of an angel and a boy caught big. My breath reminds of fluttering wings as I fill my lungs hungrily. Dull clap of wings drenched in sweat. Muggy nights. Your clammy hands on my breasts until I scream to make you stop and go away. And when you don�t, I whisper to my godfather who makes the earth tremble in my dreams. Did the earth move for you too, baby? I ask, as we subside.
