she
remembered the times
when I read
Vámoš aloud
shouting and
spitting
– her
fingers bent in every joint as she points
in the
orange light
forcing her
father to hold a phone to her dog
its name a
mantra
Bona Bona Bona –
she was
a pile of snow in May
dirty-white
dirty-blonde
at the Trojica bus stop
– dip your feet in as you wait
in the early heat
(how hot will it be in August then?)
the genius child unnoticed
when I got the praise
– I remembered sitting in parks
long before we grew
two smart girls
so we could
meet again
far north
– there
always was my mother
then her –
