i close my eyes

& tangle my fingersin threads of sunlight.

i braid strands.kiss them on their foreheads.they taste like the lustrous

cream pastries nana used tobake. i crisscross them overthe ceiling. skinny strings of

gold. i revel in my talent.

when i was little, nana nestled mein the crook of her leathery arm &carried me to meet the sun. he

patted my cheek but my skindid not burn. i was a miracle.

darkness seepsinto my periphery.

my eyes open.