Door in the Mountain. Jean Valentine

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       In the Burning Air

      In the burning air

      nothing.

      But on the ground, at the edge,

      a woman and her spoon,

      a wooden spoon,

      and her chest, the broken

      bowl.

      *

      She would long

      to dig herself into the ground, her only

      daughter's ashes

      in her nose in her mouth her only daughter's

      makeshift ashes

      nothing

      lying

      in the hole in her chest

      But her eye would still see

      up into the ground above her, still see

      the upper air

      —Let her lie down now, snake in her hole, house

      snake in her hold.