Reflection as Being in Lost Habitat
                                                                        to be so double
                        in the deep mirror of the open
                                                land
to be now fused with hum and harrow

to be rose mallow       merged
                                                into radial pinks the    blood-blind center
                        of the world       flower of mobbed stigmata

to become wide       greedy green
                        with the lawn and its leaned
                                                lethargies
to have been like that once
                                                   from comfort into strain
lines in the looking glass follow         field furrow
distorted in a gown             placed in the new-ripe

                        land         to have reflex
to be meadow mowed down to pores
                                              to cross herd nibble       grub grass of glory's demise

                                                                  all will be
                                         like dew       frost-killed and kept
                        venison wrapped in paper
            white as the dress
                        to give oneself in
                                                                               bold
                                                      where the dog flushes rabbits
                        ​​​​​​​brush cover undone
to be holding upright then the cup      the tiny hemlock drop
a summer curtsied for the turn
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