Why don’t I just say how much I own and how much I do not? It’s a tilling of the soil over my head to make beautiful what others see. So my box of marigolds sits nicely next to theirs. Meanwhile I’m wondering where the marigolds’ roots are. Tapping and pulling tight together from each of body’s corners until body is thin as a rubber band rolled around itself, double strand of DNA.

the moon begins her waiting for us at 4 pm
I acknowledge, say hello moon!
I sacralize, hello Chandrama! Purnima!
her names the same as the aunties who grasp my face with both of their hands
no ma, don’t cry