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Core is awake to her
come a great opening
sky stripped over the lots
fence-jumping, the footpaved brambles

To fall from a crabapple circuit
for the thorns, the fires
reaching from broken bottles
a garden bed to hold
the fragility of memory
ants in a wasp nest's hammock

The rhomboid ship
coming over the jagged hills
cloaked in phonograph of forest sounds
lighting a chain of ponds
with deeper ponds
black-fingered
driving the caves deeper
in a kingdom of velvet rot
saplings in a rut, some dancing
waver on only one course
to her after