Whiffletree
sky dark
wagon full of beets

*

it could be Jordan
shallow sluice
cool to my ankles
stood on sun-bleached stones

*
everything is next
nothing is now
can’t help crying
*
child means
water still tastes good

*
nothing comes to mind
o I get it
the trees are still asleep

*
they dream
or drink
the morning sun

*
never talked to them
they talked to me–
am I still like that?

*
the moment came
the black cow
turned and looked at me

*
taste of milkweed sap
forbidden
always risk of knowing

*
scrupulous churches
why so many, people
only one priest