christened by Katrina, she was on a roof for twelve days,
while my mother knit and my father
drank pomegranate juice with ice cubes in a glass,
and watched FOX 2 News forget about her, on a roof for twelve days
while I put my socks on inside out and thought of myself
in love and acid
churning in my stomach.
That’s not the painful part, she says,
articulate fingers, wristbands too tight.
She folds her arms to a rock-a-bye cradle, empty.
Lena Judith Drake is the editor-in-chief of Breadcrumb Scabs poetry magazine (http://www.breadcrumbscabs.com). For more information or her previous publications, please visit her personal website (http://lenajudith.sedentarygecko.com).
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