Sadiqa de Meijer

  I said. The wind lifted the word and blew it through the birches into smaller yesses that dispersed.   Hitched bicycle ride, my hands on your waist, soles skimming the road in the bends.   What we wore will be one of those tellings that even a latent, erasing disease never steals. In tune like a robin and…

  Neighbours never guessed that we lived in a lapsed circus, tattered canvas disguised as a rowhouse. Where there should have been marvels, a circular emptiness.   I used to barricade my room. I made tapes from radio, dial chasing the space before songs — in the leap to record, a vestige of trapeze, static resembling…