I awake
Most days
Below a robins nest
With my wings
So cold
And a heart that overflows
To redden snow.
I've been an envelope,
Are you the sparrow?
With a letter-red
Blood-fluttered
In plumes
For the bayonet
Has carved away,
And it carves away
At the arrowhead
Lodged within my breast.
Sparrow,
We all end up
Buried in the snow
So pick leaves and cover me;
Pluck the arrow
From my breast and let me rest
So far below
The robin's nest.
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