A body bowed up
spine through crown
with everything underneath
a terrorized nest. The warm birch branches
rolled together, against one another, unable to hold
air water matter.
Rocking between a squat and a kowtow
barely tipping the silky web of an upturned
umbrella, filling
as if for a bath.
Everything outside that tipsy arc
lands on it.
A bath is just the world gathered
into an upturned umbrella.
may 8, 08
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