Outside, the sky spirals in a pink
froth. Here we are. Her face.
My face. In this kitchen the light
has a sharpness that makes our eyes ache
as we watch the cat stalk a cardinal
across the yard. We are bone,
and break. There is a country
in my stomach as the sun
honeycombs through the screen.
In this house of heartbroken women,
two girls lean into the light, spitting pits,
learning the difference between sanctuary and salvation.