Once I was a girl who dug tunnels to
China.
Once I climbed a hill covered in black
velvet.
Once I was a lion standing at the
intersection waiting for the light to change.
Once I was lost in my own bed.
Once I was struck by lightning; the
distance between my head and my heart shortened.
Once I made a necklace from my father’s
amber worry beads.
Once I believed in keeping the peace in
the house at any price.
Once I was a corpse in my own bed.
Once I bought a watch with a loose,
dancing 6.
Once my long hair crept under the
windowsill and turned into a sunflower.
Once I shook for an hour.
Once I boiled a teaspoon of cinnamon in
a cup of water to mask the odor in my house.
Once I clutched a bunch of yellow roses
and leaped across a chasm.
Once I rummaged through a garbage can
to find an envelope, I was insane.
Once I lived in the house of seamless
floors and breathing carpets.
Once I was tethered to
my life holding a baby in my arms, I was grateful
Esther Kamkar