I had made my way

I had made my way to the waters of my youth

with my hair, my shoelace, my handsome, and weak

                              kneed prayer. Paradise vs. paradise for

                              us here. I was the wickedest daughter

                              of the wickedest generation of the wic

                               kedest empire the world had seen.

                               Each door opened to a palace of

                               glass. Of last night’s wreck

                               remains — a melon-half a

                               wave measured, washed

                               nearly to my feet. It will

                               not be non-violent. Our

                               story will be a story

                               of water.