harvest mice

in the flower home we were unsafe
but at least pollen-powdered
& young. you ran across
a wheat stalk & i made myself
into a sphere. in the dark 
murmur of night i would ask you
what you craved to coil inside.
your answer was always different.
"tennis ball" "dandelion face"
but once you said "a heart."
a breeze blew across the field
making all the trees in the distance
nod in agreement. i didn't ask 
anything else but instead pictured you
inside the chest of a huge animal:
a cat or even a horse.
you'd be so small 
he wouldn't even notice.
warm inside blood, leaving that cove
only for grain. would you miss me
in that red wonderful heart
or did you mean you'd take me with you? 
more often than not i wish you were
a bigger beast so that i could be
the heart-dweller & you the heart.
i wouldn't mind
being seed-sized if it didn't mean 
i am always the comma. a clip 
in the whole tumble of hair.
what are the secrets 
the more substantial animals 
are keeping from us? 
when we nest i think of nothing
but possible destructions.
an ankle could undo days
of weaving & yet we have to--
have to imagine the circle
clutching us. make the loose heart
to dwell inside. sometimes i picture
the whole world as one great beast.
this field merely a patch of shoulder.
every would be small then.
almost as small as us.