Mid-afternoon: cheap sunlight.
A house wren perches
in the fake, lit-up Christmas tree
decorating the porch. Cocks his head
and clamps his beak around
one skinny red bulb. Tugs—.
A reminder of what can't be undone.
Like mountains, sliced onion, skinned lion.
Like what kind people do to kind people—
A mother telling her daughter:
I couldn't protect both you and your brother
from that man—and you're the type
who heals herself, who's always okay.
the wren. Mid-afternoon: sunlight whitening.
But don't forget the wren. No, forget