Haimorlailee

Haimoreleilee runs like his feet are kegs of dynamite and his arms are a hang glider,

     and like he saw the Rebirth through his elephant eyes.

Haimoreleilee’s tan bandana is not like a ninja,

     nor a kufi nor a turban.

He fastened it on his his smooth forehead,

     squeezing out a thumb-sized bubble of sweat,

         the day he heard his father declare he was at war with himself, cutting off the tip of his nose, ears, fingers, and toes.

The sword hangs above their kitchen,

     along saucepans and large metal spoons

         that clang when the house shudders.

He wants to be a bright orange hang glider that burns through beige cliffs,

    and like dinosaurs crumble when the dynamite blows.

Image: Awakening (Memory of Father), Agnes Pelton. Oil on Canvas. 1943.