she doesn’t know the flavour of the tea,
but it warms her in the winter and the summer.
She doesn’t know which coast she’ll see
or which of her brothers is handsomer
and what it means to run so fast
when she’s sicker than know and number
than when she’s drunk in winter’s past
or on the banks with a noble stranger
and she wishes winds were at her mast
and the man didn’t bring her danger
but instead he was royalty
or her father, the genetic arranger.