hospice of amaranthus
field mustard and cockscomb
our landscape jawed no language
of flowers before naturalisation before
I knew if caesium should sound
like cease seize
or caesura
sunflowers worked in Chernobyl but
I am not yet pond or soil skin
all that separates
from else
I know
how to look inside myself and ask
which of these words does not belong
anther ovary bract
stigma filament chaff
I
am spitting up my inflorescence I
belong to my body like an occupying force
time makes less of self
I know now how to take up more space
bury seeds entire systems unspool
the intestines
avulse and haemorrhage roam of roots the person
moves from first to third
it
fleshes into earth into flesh
is not a body so much as gesture is
is not and
on
and on