277 Readings


Thin straight-spined pencil,             thistle-tipped                rod

                 ramming skyward                              from                shocked dirt mound


                 where winter’s rain                 exposed                a strange cluster

                                        of root,          brittle knot                of vein. Thumbnail


                                  pressed against             tender membrane             gives, weeps

                                               wet over                            fingertips,            snaps clean


at the wound that tastes most raw                         and green                and sweet.
Posted 03/26/14
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