There are where I want to grow my wishes,
some of them are just clouds that look like true wishes.
If I look into the sky and see snakes and ladders,
I become a night sound hushed by true wishes.
If I woke up a sound of rain
then I would have answered my father’s true wishes,
I would have married a rhythm of shooting stars,
I would have birthed my skin in its true wishes.
Hear me, o sons of the bard of Old,
make sure your formlessness is not imbibed in the true wishes.
Hold forth the wires of your mother’s umbilical
confirm if you are here part of her true wishes.
Ladders above, ladders below come,
Call upon the wind, let it know the true wishes
Let it know suns burn daughters in between their legs,
they buried seeds that swore to be their true wishes.
I am done soaking my tears in the sound of what I have said,
I do not want to know what becomes of my true wishes,
I do know this, that you are not Limbo,
I know that in Hades, answers become of true wishes.