Growing

Wriggling across the landscape: both frozen and with sprawling vegetation:

Her skinny digits  begin their first exploration.

I want her to try it, to delight in it. 

But this wars with the 

tiny body curled on my rib cage.

She is from me: a beautiful mess pulled

from a broken body. 

I want her to be: the bird burrowed in its nest, a wax sculpture. Instead she is the plane's exhaust in a blue sky, the charging bull.