Love Poem: Donika — Donika Kelly (2016)
This is a spring of shambles.
Of meadows slow to flower,
of fire sooting the underbrush,
and, love, I am lonely as a bear.
I am no good at bearish things.
Fish or forage, my hands
are too small or slow to clip
the salmon thick in the heat
of spawn.
I do not know where
berries are or honey or campers
or the greening branch.
I am tired of mounting
the hill alone.
Love, how do I gain
what was lost in winter?
