We want to be lean enough to remember the body was derived from work

and want to be able to see the serratus and the classical fingers of muscle

reaching between our ribs while laughing or lifting the blender from the second shelf.

And then, gazing on the muscles of her calves and the other moving shapes

not arising from muscle, wishes not arising from any former occupation are seen. 

Maybe there is a kind of path we take not trying to escape, but to be found. 

Say there is a resplendent earth ladled with creatures, plants, and a soup of weather

and it gives us ideas that are not about broth and survival, but connections,

the way a house breaks into little potted plants on the deck and window sills,

so much does it want to be a part of everything outside. And the eyes looking back,

the shark’s eye, ours, a moon snail that moves with a crab in it, the whole planet

turning to see us clear as anatomy, longing, sun-covered, good as gold.

Finalist, Alligator Juniper  2009