Naro Alonzo
n. hopscotch
v. to fold
Mum of tree trunks we’ve undressed off
their bark, pamato we tossed to mark our
mine’s. Each of us already has a house
for keeping, the other was forbidden to
touch. How I leapt with the light of a
single foot only for my ankle to fold
under a weight that strayed. Goliath in all
her breasts and brawn breakthrough your
roof, palms erasing the walls
of your private property, smearing the skeleton
of our subdivision on my pure blue skirt
like a crime scene. When you graced
a laugh but not a hand to forgive my funny
act, I knew. The leftover chalk, small
as a n****e now, you used to rebuild
your home. Bolder, grating it deep until what’s
left are ashes white as baby’s milk and the
fever of concrete’s forehead falling
from your finge
