in the summer, go to the woods
find the softest shadow walk half
a mile. the baby is underneath featherings
of ice. there is talk of leaving the baby
in brown grass. parents name the baby
august. august pools to a close. we stand like spines,
use the baby’s ashes to paint “august” onto the sidewalk.
sidewalks as tombstones are all the rage these days.
ashes smell like birthing, nothing smells like birthing
quite the way ashes do.