the abduction

i think what i saw threw me outside the house—i think a hand dipped into the room through the aluminum roof—i think the boys were playing hide & seek then—i think their mothers were in the kitchen & their fathers drinking at beer parlors where younger women were rubbing their chests, telling them stories of other men dipping their fingers into their bowels & calling forth water—i think the children were singing when the hand fisted their throats—i think their muffles were in sync with the thuds of pestles against mortars in the kitchen—i think the house suddenly became desolate—& as each boy was fetched from the house, their shadows refused to leave the wall—i think i heard shadows wailing, pulling the bodies from flight but unable to hold—i think what i saw threw me out of my dream—on a certain morning, i saw a man sitting by the drainage on Liberty Road—his eyes swollen with questions—i think i hastened my steps, i think i ran, i think i didn’t look back—memory forsakes the body at the point where fear fills the body like air