my mom pulls me up the gravel drive
in a wounded red wagon
its wheels churning slowly
under a hot sun

dinner is burning
i can smell the rank odor
and i get nervous

a burning dinner is never a good thing
see, for me, it usually means death

it means another nanny or papa or
tante or uncle
habibti, daughter or son
has been killed

it means my psyche
still fresh with wound
takes another blow

it means that only time
can measure my restraint

it means that i lay down at your feet
and let you walk all over me
if you will

and it means i rise again