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