Now barefoot the needle
our edges and

drowned.  A finding in the oven is
her       so we fill the mirrors
no more.

No, to become the burn-down,
the river fever,                        the braid of night tone--

she slips, she welcomes, she whys in the door
and grateful                              which is still
                                                              as in cabinets
                                  and straw for the settling

wearing our names
           into ropes to hold
                     the wind     full of
                                we


________________________________________

Amy Jo Trier-Walker is a tree and herb farmer in Indiana and the author of a chapbook, Trembling Ourselves into Trees, which is forthcoming from Horse Less Press in 2015. Her work can also be found in or is forthcoming from Forklift, Ohio, Handsome, LEVELER, Word For/Word, and Timber, among others, and she is the Poetry and Art Editor at Black Tongue Review.