NEW GROWTH


I am lying on my back
In a box of oak.
Fiddleheads open slowly
Above me out of primordial soil.
A woman stands near by watching,
She is the one who digs up the earth and
Pulls me out.

Later, I am lying on soft ground,
My skin begins to breathe
Like the scales of fish.
The woman bends over me, reaches
Into my chest, and removes my heart.
For a moment I become
Invisible and piercing like a crow’s
Call, high up in the pines,
Just before flight.

Kneeling above me, her fingers
Trailing tiny drops of dew,
She fills the opening
Where my heart used to be
With suggestions.

Small seedlings begin to push their way
Through the darkness of
My chest.