If Cyclops Mary heard it.
If that sentence flew clean into the ear.
If the whole thing traveled pure,
unrustled by the pigeons.
Yeah, I heard it.
Saw the whole thought form
from out the back of his head,
then take shape into one lust-musty sentence.
Two sisters ride down with us
to Massawa's liberation celebration.
One sister is the color of injera; her teeth are big and stuck-out.
One sister is a cinnamon stick.