Lady by Anthony Okpunor
Do you know how much wind bleeds before there is a tongue to call it rain?
Recently Published
I no longer harangue every desk nurse at every hospital for a taxonomic breakdown of her bills. I don’t ask for the numbers of the Benadryl, the water cups, the abdominal touches done with gloved hands. I am the most American I’ve ever been—she costs what she costs and I eat it.
Do you know how much wind bleeds before there is a tongue to call it rain?
Good bones, good / home—how tired you are, / and yet how you serve.
I found a bottle / of nail polish in the underbelly / of a bag from college.
When daddy went to the moon, I sat quietly at home, moonless
I read of this in my book of myth / and thought to myself of the old house / with its stains ...