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.