from A Lithology of Childhood

1.

In the cave of morning fossils children fly into the accident of the world not knowing beforehand how shiny their moons will be.  Thus, a child of tar and peat ash cannot know her sediment until she is picked.  This is a profound grievance.  And the sun. 

Brown to be, mouth convex, willing lonely dance, spinning.

False promise where her mouth was once lost.  It’s a biting kind of place:  all teeth.