Issue: Fall 2016
“You know this well, you who are also there”
Home is wherever we hold
our breath the least.
The white oak does not remember it differently
her memory is the only god I understand—
Here, amen is not amen but
the exhale through the center of moon
Say you know this too
we can be homesick together—
trade our histories like the trees do,
starting at the roots.
These secret understories we keep,
vast as oceans but bordered by skin—
Let us defy it all
seeing each other, become a revolution.
After all, the only real love
is the kind that witnesses—
the way a full moon shreds the forest open
without crushing the ferns,
a light that breathes