Knees braced in stinging grass
I learn my own joints
The curve of my spine
A trellis of bone and sinew
Up to collar and throat
Branched into shoulder, then elbow, then wrist
Flowering twin hands full of knuckles

Which dig into the irises
To sort their Gordian Knot
Of root and worm and fungal filament
And cut it from the ground

I am, in this afternoon
A maker of laws against prosperity
Chastising my creation
Which is forever dividing and divining
Kneeling over my raspy flock I prize
Bare a mummified welter of wombs
And begin the violence of separation

Some go back to their beds
Tucked chaste distances apart
Others are cracked from their kin
Exiles bound for foreign lawns

While I linger, remorseful
Among my bruised and scattered irises
Plant knuckles and palms beside the bulbs
Where I feel the whole weight of the earth
Through my shoulders, my penitent back
Pulling as if I could relent
And pass into soil

To live simply
Unsheltered, in the company of crickets
My womb dividing and divining
Until I am numerous, independent of bone