SMEARS
A snowy morning
unfolding
I smear my eyes
the crimson details
from my life.
[32]
TESTIMONY
When snow falls, there lives
the shrill cries that
leaves are not alone.
Each flake, a mute testimony
not a leaf falls before
surgery prunes the individual tree.
Cold November after
brown and white conspire,
the forest leaves a bleeding crust,
scar tissue from natural wars.
[33]