How would you know
what fire is.
A collision, a mouth
bent out of shape.

She sat in the car,
cried for her sister
long enough
for her hips to decay.

How would you know
what decay is.
The moon, jammed in place
points at two.

She sat on the train,
cried for her sister
long enough
for the rails to rust.

How would you know
what longing is.
Slanted day,
call disconnected.