- NaPoWriMo # 7

The first man to tour my body

had magician lips

flavored like wild fruit.

He burned my hair

with five oils and incantations

that sounded like bells.

His potions burned all night

under my bed.

The next day the albino

child born before the harvest

tossed them into the river

with his eyes closed. 

He didn’t want to see

the sudden flight of vultures.

In the meantime, my mother

told me what White Fang

didn’t know about the snow,

and the memory of the sea

became a mirage under

the bedsheet.