Jealousy wakes hungry after hibernation, quick to rage,
almost blind: its little bear-eyes caked with winter sleep.
Don't get in its way until it's stretched and eaten.
It will wander away into last years' leaves on aching feet.
Joy falls soft like snow,
turning trees to fishing nets
and cinder blocks
to intricate work in blue enameling.
Children still must be washed and fed.
Above the wrung cloths
stars spin on invisible wheels: sparks that fly
from the grinding of inconceivable knives.