The day you removed the cadaver’s 


from its taproot vessels and 

lung lined bed


it filled both hands

with an earthen weight — 

unmistakably carnal,

unnervingly still.


As your own heart beat wildly nearby

you opened it,  

tracing its chambered map

for revelation


but instead of 



it held a circuitous dream

and fell like a tree

or a fist


its curling courses

pointing again and again

to the rooted


of what circles


and still runs 

in its generous, animate arc

within you

promising nothing 

but what transpires


and returning always

to an unbroken 



that reaches with leaves

through a limitless sky.

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