Danielle Pieratti
The sun: definitely a woman
has a hand in it.
A bee: backwards spear
of warrior, borne backwards.
Goodbye ocean: asleep at your lathe on the back
of the world.
Goodbye leaf: footman hushed and
nearing the center.
Lightning: we told. Thunder, too. (And when
the snow came,
we praised the world’s pretending.)
Forgotten: return of summer-dry grass,
earth’s brow bleached
of color, the poison- ous white.
Birds in flight: a promise of possible.
Fish their gills, too.
At last, the moon
in her phases: lady undoing
her gown to please us.