• Udavrajati's Gallery
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  • Artist Info: For the first time, on the road north of Tampico,<br />
    I felt the life sliding out of me,<br />
    a drum in the desert, harder and harder to hear.<br />
    I was seven, I lay in the car<br />
    watching palm trees swirl a sickening pattern past the glass.<br />
    My stomach was a melon split wide inside my skin.<br />
    <br />
    “How do you know if you are going to die?”<br />
    I begged my mother. <br />
    We had been traveling for days.<br />
    With strange confidence she answered,<br />
    “When you can no longer make a fist.”<br />
    <br />
    Years later I smile to think of that journey,<br />
    the borders we must cross separately,<br />
    stamped with our unanswerable woes.<br />
    I who did not die, who am still living,<br />
    still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,<br />
    clenching and opening one small hand<br />
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