number eighteen

do not try to do too much with your own hands.

you held the body in your hands, they were strong suddenly and your tears were arrows in my side. we watched you work, a barbarian surgeon, poking and shaking your sister awake. you shouted, "breathe!" and your aunt burst in with knives; they reminded you you shouldn't save each one, some wanted to die and it broke your heart, you said, "i'm just trying to keep alive anyone who wants to be," and you felt the world on your back, panting, fainting, rolling your shoulders down and slouched--