Longs roads matching rivers through the broken snow
turpentine hands to pick off the clenching leeches
sandals on the hands that slap asses and paint-marked trees
nest in the hair that her tears dried
little blue eggs cracking
to dribble light on the hairline
a cavern in the bent path
by the root-torn soil
sun-blood rivulets in a deep and swerving trunk
fallen to break lichens on sturdy rock
dusted by popped mushrooms
and the whittled beaks
of featherless birds.