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August 2019.
It hasn’t rained in six months.
The air is ripe with hovering flies.
The Jewish woman takes frequent trips with her children
up
and down
her staircase.
There is a fly
circling my staircase
a fly
resting
on my daughter’s
forehead
flies zip
from one end to the other
zip
from one end
to the other
zip her backpack
before
the black
crested waves
of flies fall
towards the door
inside
where we wait
for distractions
to zip through
wait
for the unraveling
lace
of a headband to fall
wait
for tears for hair
both mine and another's
black hair
from Brazil or India
sewn into
a netted cap
hair
