the ground exhales
    a newborn's skull
thru flaxen hair
   at winter's edge
a sigh that sows
   flattened golds
to bloom again
   greased with mud

o, green-eyed child
   dun and feral
wailing raw an art
   to contend to name
the deaths of life
   be they age
or be they flame
   or by drowning spring

an inhalation
   the world retaken