Divided (from A Botanical Guide to Love)
The gate from joy
The root from the stem
Who is your mother; eye of a winking moon?
Who is your soil, this gumption under your boots?
Who is your beloved; a tendril ripped from the whole?
Divided, go forth
Divided, run away again
Was the pressure of his mouth too much?
Was the sensation of his skin too much?
Divided, the ram-rod of the branding iron
Divided, the run-around thoughts in your mind
Who is your father; this wrinkle in a cloud?
Who is your teller; this God you imagine to be watching?
Who eats your feast; this dry scattering of crumbs?