by C.M. Clark
They swing in tandem, in winter
the metal ashes ache. One mother, one other
pushes, pushes,
push. Baby
steps, baby steps, four paws
tread. Switchback stairs to kitty-corner bed. One
white bird among birds among
birds rewriting white, circumferencing
the currents. Not uncertain
the homing birds. Collar bone coils over steering wheel.
She hunts
by scent the slant back, the left-handed turns, the one blighted tree
serrating the continent’s shelf. Adrift. Reluctant
Alice Lin’s teacup feet gone now
as west as feet can go before running
out of breath out of
vertical ground beneath. A swallow
of Oolong, leaf left on tongue tip,
lanterns lure blind moths with rice-paper light,
confidential breath on cheek before dinner. Paper kiss
the twin cousins, womb zones intact. The high-
waisted low one, the myopic, the macular. How
their hair greyed before the brisk fruit ripened, how
one born first, alpha dog marries dog who kicks recalcitrant stone,
buries her birthright’s barely chewed
bone.