By Jane Wong
How long I’ve dreamt of you, teenaged and long-legged, lying on our porch, your mud-speckled sandals kicked off to the side, watching a tree slowly split
I found a black snake on the porch, its body so still I didn’t dare breathe. Lungs arrested, I might have left my body then. It was long, a rope I could Double Dutch, a tilde underneath every word I try to love differently.