Elizabeth Claire Rose, V Lete (hand-colored intaglio print with photo etching)
no bigger than a thumbnail, precise
as clock springs in their weaving
through tall grass—my cousin joining in
the hunt, we are twin flashes—synchronized
light, then the leap meant to carry our wing-
less bodies featherlight over the muddy ditch,
the hidden plywood unseen, the nail springing
in blossom bright and tender through the sole,
my uncle even taller than God stands
setting down his afternoon beer to me
on skinny shoulders, walking me to the table
where the adults are gathered like a welcome,
like I can't even feel the angry tooth bared
through the top of my left foot how I always
pictured the devil's eye.