~finding the roots of faith
how else to begin
but at the altar of
her heart
because she is
made of curves
of hipbones
& eyelashes
& breasts
even as hours
quicken the air
she stravages a
ghostfield, collects
voices
tucks them pocket-
deep, listening for
an echo
even as she borrows
blue memories from
rain, cradles their fragile
depth at the edge of
breath, we observe here
a hundred thousand miles
of her hushed voice
because her cursive shadows
are made of ink
lah 3.10.17 ©®
Dedicated to my wonderful friend, Faith Atuhumuze, a marvelous Ugandan poet.
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