Midwinter takes all back to core and root,
scrapes off summer’s fat and muscle,
whitens the bones without leaves,
gust polishes dry skulls into mirrors,
bones into icy water,
a hollowed cavity
Midwinter is a teenage lad, on
his haunches – dead rabbit head hill,
in one hand, penknife cold in other,
catches the blade on the bone
and scrapes away the fur,
gouges out orbital cavities,
back to the bowls,
excavates the hollows,
oozes cherry red blood.
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