little light rises morning within morning
hands chafed clean from defile, knuckle
after knuckle pearled, bread
and boiled water, alive
and silent, as wind, as snow, muted
to two dark braids. yet
the innocence of thin limbs, winced
in the bathroom, rashed red
across her lovely back, penicillin
inside the animal she carries
pierced to her skeleton. night
within night anointed in hard breath
and the oiled smell of lubricant.
little light, eyes bleached in the ice
of his smile, no hand, no belt, just frozen sweat
and the sound of a doll drowning in snow.