mothers innocent of crow chalking about in white grass. fathers, guilty and gospel. gardens
and pocket deer. my sister has a stone, one cheekbone, and a kite. how you are seeing
that stone, let me this- it is not god’s tear, tooth, godcrumb. nor is it madly
a raindrop. she loves it she says for its milk. but she’s 12. digs
in the night
at her ear.