Your body compels my gazing— droplets on tail, wing, and crown are daffodil, redcurrant, moon-gray light. Museums of you descend and shadow the ground,
The void reshuffles the deck, your card from a sister life. Poet, explain who sends these postcards from a sister-life? Her fingernails leave quarter
There is a certain kind of forgiveness between mothers and daughters that fathers cannot understand. A certain kind of blue glass shard. A bitter