One night a group of people sent
a woman to my house who wanted to touch
everyone. Her skin was dark, the moon’s
blue hues on her shoulders. She braided
my hair, and all through the night
her mouth moved
in another language. No sound came
from those lips. I tried
to understand, tried to move my lips
as soundlessly as her own for fear
of breaking glass. The woman untied my hair
and braided it again. By morning,
I opened my mouth, and a plague
of flies
was released.