It could be my ghost finding / the touch of its mother in a house where the doors are / shutting against the portals of grief. I could be coming / through the window as wind.
In the entrails of Rio’s brush, a flight is in process: Jongo, African of Angola, and Adriano, a Brazilian Criollo, risk the dense forest seeking the freedom to be
In the years that formed me, I poured myself into classes, hobbies, extracurriculars I was told you’d like: Latin, Mandarin, Multivariable Calculus, Swimming, AP Physics.
