Her brown falcon perches above the sink br as steaming water forks over my hands. br Below the wrists they shrivel and turn pink. br I am in exile in my own land. br br Her half-grown cats scuffle across the floor br trailing a slime of blood from where they fed. br I lock the door. They claw under the door. br I am an exile in my own bed. br br Her spotted mongrel, bristling with red mange, br sleeps on the threshold of the Third Street bar br where I drink brandy as the couples change. br I am in exile where my neighbors are. br br On the pavement, cans of ashes burn. br Her green lizard scuttles from the light br around torn cardboard charred to glowing fern. br I am in exile in my own sight. br br Her blond child sits on the stoop when I come br back at night. Cold hands, blue lids; we both br need sleep. She tells me she is going to die. br I am in exile in my own youth. br br Lady of distances, this fire, this water, br this earth makes sanctuary where I stand. br Call of your animals and your blond daughter, br I am in exile in my own hands.