—to walk within the walls
of the earth.

I would watch the field’s

darkness: purpling
towards light. With my lips

parting to know
that someday soon
snow would fall

inside &
through me.Like a god-

awful version
of my living body:       its exit

wounds still pulsing. It was here

I looked in-
to the gray-lit

reservoir & saw
this face—the first time I grew

afraid of my own eyes.I found a body

as warm as a father
in the rye.

Steam curling into air, the honest

scent of blooded
like breath pried

from its ghost, the deer gave me

its failing antlers &
we stayed until winter

ended. It motioned crawl—
crawl into me.

As if to say this will change
everything for you

of my ribs as you grow.
This was the first

time I no longer felt
afraid: I knelt

into its wintered body as
if offering my own

small life
to a god spent
of being

so made in its flesh.

marching in- / to the body like
what god does

to the hands at ease / they pull
our legs up
above the sky- / line until

our mouths are pried / opened

into a wintered hush / that
sinks in- / to the gray

flesh of the lungs / don’t ask why—
why / am I
here / at the collected teeth

of someone’s
paradise? / from under
the arms / they drag us

to the gates / pearling
a white like point-blank
snow. Laid out / side-by-side

a knife / held
inside their shadows / moves over

our throats
we need these / these bodies
to prove once

again how wounds
only reopen / when touched

their masks / the color of
light / bruising
their faces / hold still

one of the saints says / the voice
like the hours / of rain
paused
at the moment of / impact:

how a body
hits the earth & almost

disappears / half-
merged into the walls
of this smeared
heaven / this won’t hurt
at all

the autopsy
is in / the mirror
the bluing sky
I reach for some-

thing—anything / to hold
onto / forgetting

I had a body / no longer:

a hand holding back.