Undeliverable is winter
after the world falls
to disease. The wind
passes through me & away
as if I am that wire
fence now. Mended
by a man’s hands
after my body mangles
the calf it meant
to deliver. It’s midnight.
I am unbearable. Beyond
this hard year, another
hard year. Where the child
fictions. Last summer’s missing
rain falling in her
wrists. What drought
hasn’t beggared us yet
will bend us over
these fields. Not frozen
undersnow. I want
to feel safe
for even a minute,
but I’ve wanted
impossible things
before. A country
where drought might be
imagined. Snowmelt
rushing the fields.