this morning i felt a seed lodged 
in my palm. it ached like a torn 
length of rope. we are playing 
tug of war on the roof & one of my brothers
is falling of the edge. i am holding 
the rope & he is a bunch of cabbages in the yard.
the seed is twinkling 
in the bed of my thumb 
where there are cogs & filaments & wires. i water
the seed. i talk to it. i say
"you don't want to choose me
for your roots." there is sorbet 
in the freezer, huge tubes of it.
a spoon floats in the doorway 
begging to be plucked. spoons are
mostly stalkers. i give in & taste
just a tiny spoonful. the flavor
of a vacation-- one where i was too little
before i made lists each day. 
round rubber moon asking
for its own nightlight. i press
the handles of flashlights 
into the loose damp earth.
a forest of diminishing light
all up towards the moon. the moon is
less lonely now. what have you been doing
to keep your body company? i love
the persistence 
of orange rinds. a wheel 
rolls down the hill 
with out its mobile or it human.
whatever grows in my hand 
i hope it is gentle with me.
roots around bone around muslce
& tissue. i am picturing
a tomato vine crawling
up my arm. a raspberry bush 
spreading all the way down 
to my waist. telling a boy
to open his mouth & close his eyes 
as i place a ripe red fruit
on his tongue. a tongue is
a kind of beacon. all these boys
in the their towers & no one 
to save them. have you ever been
a boy with a seed soon to burst
from his palm? the starlight
is sharp tonight, little incissions 
in my blankets. a thousand tiny holes.
a wound is growing. the sun is
packaging himself in celophane 
so he will keep for another hundred-million years.
i hate when humans consider extinction 
as if it is an option. we are here
to open out mouths until 
our jaws turn to wings. i am here
to let the seed open & emerge
out of my skin. what will you steal 
from the farm?

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