twelve red ants climb the ladder in my stocking.
they punctuate my leg, pincers pincing.
i wish i had known the violences you have
what it means
a bicycle chain against my face or
whatever it is you saw.

i wrote a story about coyotes.
it starred the boy i thought i was going to marry.
he plays rugby now,
and he's bigger.
i wrote a story and in it
the coyotes found us kissing in the sandbox
and broke my collar bones out of jealousy.
do i remember the day the bear came to our back yard?
or did i make that up, too?

and what was her name,
the girl with the elevated palate
whose grey matter popped.
annika.
annika my first conversation was with you.
i named myself, can you remember?
propped up against the pillows,
eyes open, but did you see me?
you wore a red dress with a white lace collar,
i was three. i asked you,
how is it spelled?