Gift


weeks of the body torpid, weighted
then rain, rain, fields left

to sow themselves, pansies, petunias,
velvet leaves silken, fuzzy,

night crawlers and rising steam
rain, rain, saucy-black

grackle chased from a robin’s bath,
dusty breasts paddled clean,

the body, the body given back,
buoyed, the body, soles of the feet

singing naked slaps of praise
in unison with waxy wings
down a dark wet street

By Jeff Burt