In the winter
       

In the winter
you begin to understand
these places are not for you

    your own body to help you
    to collapse inside quietly—
    we don't know anything.

Alone is each making—
of years naming remains

this fragment replicates
    the weight of body parts
        with each to show us
        we are
    to fall now

        to keep this going—

From the looking images
a bog is a terrifying place to be a fly—

you tell me what that means

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Copyright © 2014 Khaty Xiong All rights reserved
from Deer Hour
New Michigan Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission