the sun penetrates damp topsoil
to warm deeper sentiment
brings, in this bare spring night
a resurrection. Collected under
brown grass
warmed, too warm for the cold ground;
earth uncurls
frozen fingers
and she rises.
A haze long and sweet under
the violin moon.
Baby-toothed smile
come back, you can wrap
your half moon/half sun
small hands of bone
around my living flesh.
I can smell your death, sweet
warmed damp earth and memory.
