Again, the afternoon submerges the town in heat, pulls sweat

from the pores. In times like this, the mango trees in tight embrace

keep their promise of heaven on earth.

You used to be here—shirt on shoulder, watching the lizards

bolt each time a raptor swoops overhead. The way they shuffle

in the grass. There’s music in this. I hear it now.

It’s months-long and there’s nowhere left to disappear into

to escape you. You step into the room of my head,

Take a seat and won’t leave. There’s so much to say to you

but I do not want to leak saltwater like a shower.

I understand now the world was born from a dream.

All things sprouted from that landscape. Like God

On the face of the waters with one dream—light.

First, I never understood what ma showed in the colors

Of her dreams. Where hers are in reverse—someone bringing

Life into the suffering of the world is simply exiting

& dying in her dream means birthing a child.

When that dream came to me, you were weeping in it.

As though a movie plays before me.

The pain was eating you and nothing would make it stop.

I was aware it was a figment of my mind. My fears and yet

something beyond the mind. I was weeping, too. I stood

some distance away from you as I watched ma, lost

in the labyrinth of fear and confusion, thrash about wanting

to relieve you of the weight of the ache. I broke out of that prison

and brother has called twice. Sent a text about your silence.

Sleep wouldn’t touch ma’s eyes days before and cruel

how it was that in the middle of the bleak hours she found sleep

you slipped away. Found the door and walked through

never to return like a bright child lost in the past.