On the train, the spitters and knock-kneed start fights as the
woman across sneaks her keys out, just in case, she doesn't say to me,
but we know each other in the teeth. My tabby has taken up
aggression toward strangers, and who could blame her? She was
once a mummified crocodile. I was once, too, can still feel the
tightening some dawns, still the paralysis. Big men held our heads
down with their knees, one by one.
After the Crocodile Cemetery at Kahun
By: Erica Wright