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i made a mosque in the mouth of a white girl when i was seventeen deserted myself to worship her word already familiar with the violent silences, or are they absences that come after prayer i snuck past her sleeping mother climbed fences and crawled through awning windows prostrated onto her skin as if it were velvetine janamaz when she stopped leaving the window unbolted i’d stare at the mihrab of her pale back through the only hole in the picket fence my left eyeball is trapped i walk around with one empty socket