I just texted your father

to say Even if you leave

me I am still writing

a book to the child

we have not made yet.

So hello. Hello, Loon.

Hello, internal referent.


Your father is a poet.

I am stealing your name

from a line of his and

making it worse. I am

always making things

worse. 29 years ago

a light opened up over


my own motherís head.

The light said My my my.

The light said Imma go

so useless. If I teach you

nothing else, then this:

Be dumb before the

heart that sang you here.




Glow in the dark always.

Remember the gut flora,

okay. Someday someone

will place neon fish in

your open palm, will say

This is the place we are

going. Do not be taken


with perfect posture

or silk shirts, this thing

called Language. Have

weird amounts of faith.

There will always be

another soap company

that needs naming.



Donora Hillard appears in Pedagogy, Monkeybicycle, Hint Fiction (W.W. Norton), FRiGG, diode, Best of the Web (Dzanc Books), and elsewhere. She is the author of the poetry collections Theology of the Body and the forthcoming Covenant (with Zachary C. Bush), both from Gold Wake Press. She teaches at Wayne State University in Detroit while completing a PhD emphasizing disability poetics and postpedagogy.