Even the trees without buds this April even those
without green without bright whose arms stay bare
even my belly stayed bare when the boy I loved that winter
got another girl pregnant even the belly I scraped for him
bittered as the cactus rinds in my yard
even the porch where ornaments crackled the sidewalk where I’d
splintered each glass to its sharpest edge even barefoot I’d reeled—
even those trees are singing the warmth come early
this spring & love has found me my arms raised
in what I always imagined [even grief] could have been praise