I didn’t imagine thimbles of milk—
just white skin shedding like snow,
sawdust curling from naked pine.
It wasn’t death, but revision—
find flesh, replace with air,
find falling, replace with flight.
Karen Dietrich writes poems, stories, and songs. Her recent and forthcoming publications include Nerve, Scapegoat Review, Pank, and MonkeyBicycle. She lives in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, and online at grapesatmidnight.com.
I didn’t imagine thimbles of milk—
just white skin shedding like snow,
sawdust curling from naked pine.
It wasn’t death, but revision—
find flesh, replace with air,
find falling, replace with flight.