poetry

 

Family Narrative by Cami Park

 

There was food and we ate. When we were tired, we slept. We don’t remember anger or confusion, but sometimes, fear. The times we were thrown into the air and waited to be caught.

 

I am these boxes and hands.

Rainwater windowpanes

Scattered capsules. 

 

The first thing they noticed when

They landed was

The horizon

Precise in the distance

An envelope ready to fold.

 

The second

The eyes of their hosts.

Convex spoons reflecting nearby fires.

Dark aquariums.