-On a mountainside in the Nora Sacred Lands
A shadow rolls over the icecap,
smothers a lighthouse subsumed
by steel eclipse. Braids drape
the glass, solid cold so long ground
does not remember ground, the buried
do not remember the buried. At dawn,
hunger lapses, buds chrysalis out
of ash, and with a singular focus,
lush breeds lush in the warm hands of rust.
An heirloom, alloy, visits the grave, an exile
carefully forgotten. Like seashore air
biting brown against iron, against time, turn
your face to the sun and survive. The seed
sheds the scars of the father, the daughter
bears the scars for the seed.
