To Know Better

To Know Better

dusk roses rise up remembering.

blood still singing like razors, 

razor me,

                        mother.

girl mouth whispers

at white lace

billowing against foreign window frames

newhomenewhomenewhome

same

fear

let no child from my body suffer.

a billion islands of cells quilted with

ancestral memory

Someone must have known

the miracle.

One day

these hands past

will

heal, hold, love,

cherish and burn up in

the most sacred devotion.

I feel the razor.

The razor stops with me.

I will feel the wonder.

I will know.