Parading

that song that’s our birthright,

in an endless cave, the song that says my bones
that’s sung in silence when it’s too hard to go on,
that’s sung in silence when it’s too hard to go on,
that sounds like someone’s rough fingers weaving
that sounds like someone’s rough fingers weaving
into another’s, that sounds like a match being lit
into another’s, that sounds like a match being lit
in an endless cave, the song that says my bones
in an endless cave, the song that says my bones
are your bones, and your bones are my bones,
are your bones, and your bones are my bones,
and isn’t that enough? —Ada Limón
and isn’t that enough?
—Ada Limón

atoms

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