Do not count the stars that led you away when you left a home and lost a name. Ma, make a wish for yourself today.
As your anklets, silver paisleys, turn grey and time is no longer yours to claim – do not count the stars that led you away.
The skies break. Your dreams decay. If wishing means an end to this refrain Ma, make a wish for yourself today.
Missing a moon, the night is on its way. Our day breaks in turns. Only change remains. Do not count the stars that led you away.
I see you glow with remains of the day and sing softly to my unlined frame. Ma, make a wish for yourself today.
You have, not once, asked me to stay as I flit towards the sky – your old domain. Do not count the stars that led you away. Please, Ma, make a wish for yourself today.
*
On Loitering
Tonight when the lamp blows shadows into shapes do not run. Instead, wish your bones into blades and meet every eye that roves your skin. Keep your chest taut and your spine aligned. Carry sharp silver into the night. It is even a skill to learn number-plates quickly, and by heart.
Tonight, know that you are no one's daughter (let your palms hold their own heat tonight).
Do not run tonight. Instead gather the sounds at your feet and let them break the earth. It is only glass. And you are the air you occupy.
