This is how it is: the smallest body wracked with song.

Being broken is the only way to escape a voice.

 

Picture a stained glass window shattering to let loose hymns.

I’ve never had the courage to shatter anything.

 

Sometimes, a rabbit’s heart explodes in its chest.

Scientists say this is caused by too much fear and too little body,

 

but I want to believe differently:

that body took the crash inside the forest out of the forest and kept it.

 

 

Anna Rose Welch
is a violinist and editor from Erie, PA. She holds an MFA from Bowling Green State University. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Best New Poets 2014, Guernica, Barrow Street, Crab Orchard Review, Tupelo Quarterly, The Paris-American, The Journal, and other publications.

Photo by Jamelah E. Creative Commons.[/infobox]

Filed under: Poetry

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