the cotija and corn bits tooth-trapped / in your smile / cardboard box tents, dew-slick grocery carts, / the rooftop hail of oh-my-gawds / that mollywop our skulls as we saunter / past pews of palm trees.

“¿Qué dice?” Mami demanded, / pulling at the coloring book and scented markers pressed to my chest replacing them with today’s mail.

In this city whose name is a tumble of / scree, / I circle old town lanes in search of / something whole, / something holy / and see the pink bedspread, / the potted geranium, / a child’s hung dress / in a house razored open

The planes had struck many bombs and missiles all over the city. What we saw no one can describe, because there are no words in this world.

Photojournalist Ozier Muhammad has captured some of the most important political pinch points of our times, from South Africa’s first free elections in 1994, to Obama’s 2008 campaign.

Squeeze your thighs/ together to stop the flow. Fail. Pepper / his sheets with blood against your good judgement.

When / Borges went blind / he could still see / green. I’m not anyone / like Borges. I just need / a proximity to a similar / grief.