Laura you stew and fill and melt
you make warm wood of us you clean
and clean the buck the intestines the bladder
you Laura roll it out salt it how long have we been out here
the americas eight percent of the earth
your sod house a year of substitution
earth for love earth for walls earth for flour
earth for privacy you fucked no one that year
or the next but you allowed yourself a scrap of fur
a necklace of hummingbird skulls you made arrangements Laura
the fieldgrass shaking I tracked you
through my own unheated winter
I pinched flour maggots from our oatmeal
my new breasts aching in their cage Laura I was your kind of girl
I took care of things I sifted scant cups of flour
none of it wasted half woman
half cutting board a childish version all the same