Ellen McGrath Smith
The big dipper dips so low to the north that my pelvis
belongs to it now
The garden spills over its edge
as though tethered but trying to run
The locust in the back
bears its leaves like compresses
Unforeseen rain floods the south
The cicadas externalize
everyone's heat-crackled nerves
Enough, enough, enough we say
here’s more, here’s more, here’s more it says