her aunt drank tea in a yellow dress
on the eve of a revolution.
she caught her mother kissing her father
in the alcove in the kitchen,
her uncle hugged her and his beard smelled like dinner,
her brother's feet left tracks on the veranda tile,
the neighbor's had a wedding next door
and she was lying in the grass, under the sun
behind garden walls that felt unbreachable
the first time she heard bullet meet flesh
her aunt scratched her own face bloody
her mother vomited in the flower beds
as her father held her,
her uncle's beard filled with tears,
her brother's body left blood stains on the tile of the veranda,
the wedding next door turned into a funeral,
and she washed her first body
on the eve of a revolution.
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