Sunlight worn child stuck in her stain;
present and poor in the long dust
her heart beats like birds drowned
in the womb’s breath blood.
On the shore of her mind
wind puffs a stiffening tide born
in the levelling loud.
Sweet with despair like a buckling bride
time blooms brief the spell of her skin,
the size of her grief a dwindling wreath
on the sore summer seed of her grave.