Stars, crisp in the deep plot
pulling off, late snow clouds
clean themselves
The river lets loose the carp,
coughs beneath its frozen part

Drippings on their roof hit their gutter,
Ice branches ripped off in wind are waterborne,
In the house, a rim of cheese is quiet
There...,

is a chunk of lard to be rendered

I should hang pails on ther trees and wait for sugar
I want to tie off their time like a birth cord
chewed broken in a proud woman's teeth
My navel is gone, the moon up,
in a month or two my ******* will be in pain

Out here a woman wonders...
And if she has no man her arms get strong
When seasons charge she can't believe
there will ever be milk in her body

Ever believe there will be someone
asking something from her