The birds are busy now
Spring (like grief) is
something to sit in
let it sprout around you
The birds are busy now.
But you are slowly coming into you skin
like a snake un-shedding
you are slipping into that
paper-thin-thing
how it softens with your warmth
how it fits the length of you
an opening-a gaping eye at the end of you
Now you tremble
Now you carve the grass in two
leaving the place that you were
Moses through the sea