Empty Ring, Nest Fire

My first burnt bark child—flung to the windless flames
Second sly child—dressed for weather, swan skinned

Serpents impress diamonds into my salt shoulders
This composed with the Devil’s black forked feet

He wants them back, sunk in hot white ink 
Tentacles; mother-hunger hundred-mouths; the drift and
     night-closures

Number one child, the jawbone I packed for you, axe-bright
Number two child, that hard set of hooves, elegant, horse-swift

Recall that one midsummer squall, us the color of water
The shock of hail: the sky astonished, dropping all its blind white 
     eyes