Joan Harvey ~ Thaw

I want to say Hale-Bopp.
I want to say orange-tipped bush.
Beaver-chewed trees.

I want to watch the water move
In backwards eddies
Picking up skim from the sky.
But something comes up
In the muck
Someone finds the body caught
In the low tree branches
It doesn’t matter that it’s spring
Or it does ¬–
Things are coming uncovered.
While you give birth,
Letting the DNA replicate
Strands twining into new life
Someone is sitting in the car
. . . you know . . .
Hooking up the exhaust hose.
Each new nerve hums.
The earth in spring
Softens
Waiting to hold us.

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