Backyard a bower, an altar; the live oak’s bark

honeycombed by time;

               a cardinal flickers

in the blackberries. Doesn’t shame

always accompany repentance?

                   My soul a steer,

hide split by blade. Out of the strong

came forth sweetness.¹

             Inside the harbor of brambles,

blood painted on leaf-tips glitters

in the fissuring sunlight—

                 the cool shade,

the schism of light and shadow—

a buzzing

       blooms from the body.

¹ Judges 14:14