The story of her exile undercooks
necessary protein. Blood leaks without heat.
No one eats; hunger, once homeless, nests.
Creases on her palms deepen like water
choked by the sand. Empty lines
dominate. Search lights, almost
fire, interrupt. Dogs bark face down into the scents.
Seagulls rummage between the living for food.

Now safe, she drinks, too thirsty.
Her husband summons food
from someone else's land
for someone else. She pours
the bottle her father fermented
underground, the ground she left,
where she could speak.