blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsFall 2010  Vol. 9  No. 2
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Spring Intervention

She had carried in a blood-haze
the loss of her father, mother, and brother
just so long
                   they’ve slipped their names
to become one flame into which she rakes
the mulberry’s long-fallen leaves.
She has dug away with her fingers
every torn, saw-toothed, and browned-heart carcass
from under bushes, stones, and the new stems of
desert marigolds.

She is visited soon by a couple of cats and
a horse of a dog who has slipped its leash.
A few neighbors stop over. Everyone acts themselves
but with more crackle in their eyes, seeds bursting
under their skulls, bits added to the fire
while they’re watching it all stand up inside of her—

Alms, she believes, for the afterlife of one at the end of the day.  end

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