(no subject)

april

stepping
her
knees lifted, high
bare toes off the ground
and down again
with the slow
hesitation
of a bird after a storm, hopping
from muck to muck, lonely
for worms.

the way her feet pain
from the rocks in the mud.
the way the trail of her dress
is dressed in mud.
the way her eyes are down as if
she looks for a lost child
or its tears welling
in her footprints.

or its blood welling
in her footprints.

this way to May a somber
high-kneed romp. the birds
a dirge. the rocks
have cut her heel

dirt clings
to this new mouth
like orphans.