We ate acai berries and drank agave nectar
in the branches of the trees when the wind lay still;
we hollowed out flutes and painted our stomachs
and dug ’til our fingers were bleeding.
They asked us what we’d like to do
on our last day on Earth
and I thought it would be fitting
if we could reenact the first,
we braided vines and named the birds
and made up words to call the moon.
I saw an exit,
but we deserved to die.