Birth

You seem surprised, the way winter is always surprised by spring:

But when the sky splinters above you,

with rain and rain and rain,

you have not forgotten how to dance.

So how is it that you have never thought to ask what it meant

when the rock beneath your dancing feet was as solid as a promise?

Still, you look at me strangely when I tell you this mystery:

the water I wash with is a red bleach, life is a death I seek to die,

and the path I follow ravages my reddening feet with each step I take.

Oh darling—did you forget?

Love was never tame.

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