inheritance

just means debris, a bone-colored rosary
weeping like water through hands

cracked with instinct, i repair what is
broken, yank apart the picnic table
and make a whole new start

a train whistle and a jumping spider
on the cast iron before dawn

a folksong tells the tale of time as
something that can run out

sunrise sequels a myth
a myth rises like how a deer leaps
toward the horizon to reveal

behind her, another deer
white of bone, tail upturned
lashing at the air