Gleeful, naive subordination wasn’t even the worst part
It was the fact that her eyes were the color of mine,
in a way that she could be a sister or mother.
It was the way those same eyes seemed ahead of her brain,
and they knew what was happening before she did.
They tightened and lit up, then flickered off for a last time, dying fireflies.
Caught in a cacophony of light and pixel,
Seen through technicolor and scan lines
A child’s dying moments, the birth of an adult; with...