I dream in abstract again,
about swimming pools & babies & wheels within wheels & proof of god in my mother’s awe at my stomach
about the muscle on the underside of my arms softening & all the chlorine I’ve swallowed coagulating in
I wake cold but at least all of the hair on my pillows is mine, & at least I am in my mother’s house again
I go tell her my body wasn’t made to be loved over the summer &
wait for her to disagree or pray. she holds
my hand and says
she will wait for the winter with me.
Keianna Lewis is a storyteller from New York, now studying Linguistics and Literature at McGill University in Montreal.