A rose-hipped girl with legs closed tight

Sits staunching an ochre river.

She’s sure of a weeping snake with teeth

Red sunk into her belly.

Her lid folds pink, her tongue tastes blood

She hasn’t got a welt

But there is pain from depthless earth

Come coursing through her heart.

Fast run, girl, run

If only you knew

The bud against your teeth

Will bloom

In deathless winter a second flower

claims every lily meadow.