Daphne

She hides in the east shadow
of a thirty-foot wall. She might
remember damp hands
of ivy, but now she tangles
only with herself, limbs
on fractured limb, sparse leaves
cupping small swallows of light.
What can she say, embarrassed,
when pink silk shoots out
from her every cleft in April
in—yes—the rain’s warm lick.

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Amy Miller’s poetry and nonfiction have appeared in Barrow Street, Copper Nickel, Gulf Coast, RHINO, Tupelo Quarterly, Willow Springs, and ZYZZYVA. Her full-length poetry collection, The Trouble with New England Girls, won the Louis Award from Concrete Wolf Press, and her chapbooks include I Am on a River and Cannot Answer (BOAAT Press) and Rough House (White Knuckle Press). She lives in Oregon.