In the orchard of memory,
a bite out of every apple

Sometimes the past digs me up

I collect the dirt in jars,
I drink the water, I label
all the bones

In the new forest,
the air is eucalyptus – no,
juniper – medicinal
and stinging,
the dragonflies sapphire,
big as a dream

You mourn the girl I was
as if I killed her,
as if I left her
in a field somewhere,
shipwrecked in the dry grass –

I hold her like a sister,
a candle burning
in the room my body makes,
in the round and quiet room of sleep.