I open my eyes and remember sleeping
beside a hill. The sweet alfalfa
had to stand beside the horse
that would soon eat it.
I open my eyes to a river
of desire to scramble through wild
mint and disturb the crawfish
with my hand washing. Will you bless me?
O the furious
wheeling in my chest, for everything
awake in me is in the trees
is under the wings is wearing the storm.
Blessings for this ferocity.