Blasted Tree

Bathing in the yellow light of the

Big and Little Dipper,

I learned how to paint my toes

and tug down my dress zipper.

Between the reeds of cattail

with mud caking my hands,

I dug a hole of blackness in my

head and in the lands.

Mary held the toolkit

and Magdalene the mirror,

and when I wiped my breath from the glass

the reflection grew no clearer.

I spoiled slowly with the moon

as each sliver ate the next in turn,

and crumbled like dust in the dirt

a temple slashed by midnight sunburn.