One June our heart was beating when a screen, a voice, a page changed our Pulse from pride to grief changed our dreams to rage God, I couldn’t take the bleeding that was laid out like a play And I couldn’t take needing to understand, to disengage The prayer, please let me wake Eloi, please…

Does the seed feel claustrophobic before it splits into something new No semblance between shell and shoot to soften the rising with something familiar Does it wonder in whatever way a plant has of knowing of worrying whether the world is better than being held from growing Whether the world is better for it breaking…