Woke up screaming? 
Woke me up screaming. 

I have a translation for you. 
A dark corner, lit.

He’s been off, fighting. Now he’s back. 
He tries to stay awake.

His method of curing his illness is to search for sounds. 
Black baby, black baby—is it poison?

Did you hide? We put you in a car. 
We put you in a car and drove as fast as we could. 

Darkness came down, the way it does in winter. 
It was snowing in the cutting room.

I can still remember the day you were born. 
The cloth. Just the grain itself.