I hand you in, careful not to let
your little girl body slip.
You coo with soft pleasure,
held to your mother’s body

The window above our sink reflects us darkly in steam-fogged glass as we stand side by
side; my hands sudsy and yours clutching a dish towel...

In the dream I was made
to sacrifice my cat
if I wanted answers from
I-Don’t-Know-What.

This is life, I said,
then whispered you a warning:

​

This is not the whole world.
This is just one day.

Don’t let this dryness dampen you. Your turn

now to suckle at your mother’s breast. Feast

defiant of this cold drought, my daughter;

you are made of thunder, heat, and water.

Can the witness wholly strip

all association? Can we hope 

to hide? 

      Let us try.

The sky has finally left us

to chase the straying sun;

A bird on the hedge

twitters at me I worry for the sky what

will happen now that the sky has fallen

for the sun.