in the beginnings of centuries
we are born amidst chaos and don’t know of it
this is my home: i, in the rubble at my mother’s feet
her soles still crave tanganiyka’s sands
and my father catches coins in the midair smog
they are dropped by the giants brewing over our rooftops
what’s in a land if it saves you from the forces that prey within:
family burdens breed
they think bulldozed walls are our full standing shields
we walk on crumbling floors
infants scream when they realize
my lungs breathe in the smoke
i cough on my way to shrieking about the wildfires that loom
at least they taught us how to run.