Leaving Rhode Island White coral, lightless chandeliers, ship’s rigging etched in scrimshaw: last night’s wet snow weighs on the trees, keys of an old
Every month her body prepares the scarlet garden, leaf on leaf of nesting cells to plump the shelter, rich red bed stitched with spiral-
Blood test. Doctor on the phone. The cold. Emily’s zero at the bone. That cold. The child forced to choose&emdash;which parent to become, which
The dog sits on the edge of the bed, watching what looks to me like silence after snow, the gleam of yard muted by