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Carrying the water I saved today

in the leaky cup of my hands,

I approach Earth,

beached on her belly

but stirring slightly

in a miserable wind.

As high on one side as I can reach

I let my pittance spill

down the cracked blue skin,

careful of her blowhole,

and I think her squint eye’s moon

rolls to see more,

but a hurricane clouds the pupil,

ringed with smoke on fire.

from Debt to the Bone-Eating SnotflowerFind it in the library

Copyright © 2013 Sarah Lindsay
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.

Published in Poems Sarah Lindsay

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.