A rose-hipped girl with legs closed tight
Sits staunching an ochre river.
She’s sure of a weeping snake with teeth
Red sunk into her belly.
Her lid folds pink, her tongue tastes blood
She hasn’t got a welt
But there is pain from depthless earth
Come coursing through her heart.
Fast run, girl, run
If only you knew
The bud against your teeth
In deathless winter a second flower
claims every lily meadow.