in ways I don’t recognize.
Maybe the clinic
is farther
than I remember.
The last time we came,
we were traveling
from a different direction.
Maybe the clinic
is on the other side
of the mountain.
A swarm of whiteflies
flutters in my stomach.
It was a long time ago.
I was only little.
Maybe it was a different
mango tree.
Everything is quiet now.
The crows. The dog.
Everything is silent.
Maybe it was
a different mountain.
