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Dark Matter

By Sandra Ramirez From Issue No. 6

My daughter tells me to make fire –

She doesn’t understand

we can’t go inside other people’s

houses. The homeless bless me,

it’s that bad. I must have a sign

on my head transported as I am

to fire logs at my feet,

long before the single room

a clan of wild dogs linked:

Mother, Father, Daughter, Granddaughter

Can I make it out of here?

I turn towards my girl

flick the lighter, her eyes going

so big they float in their own


About Sandra Ramirez More From Issue No. 6