I think I was an orchard before
hand over heels took what I had
to say on cadmium and color—
a flowering wax dawn my throat
eyes strained by dusk the world
has become mulberry and what
I contain, I am not sure.
*
It had to do with space—
broken into, you said (something foreign) in midair
and then it came and I was ready to see my shoulder
plates broad enough to grab bouvardia
even if they were full of lions taking off.
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