In Spring
Everything folded and green in its seed
pocket, in its ocean of dirt
Everything podded and preparing to tower
to spring from itself more
of itself—sweet essence, pith, para-shot
on fluttering wings,
the wind—broker of promises Everywhere
beneath us leaf-flutes budded,
swirling up, soft explosions Everywhere
through us tongues
unraveling speckles, anther and filament,
thorn-finger and prickle
Absolute forest of my body spiraling open
no division of rhythm
no stress apart from the word the thing
spring Absolute this volley
of stones my chest a valley of unknowns
Opening the way roots
open the ground Opening like bracts
spread their palms
legs open Opening to reveal
retractable muscles
Opening the folded instruments
of resuscitation Opening
from skeletal kingdoms
Bulbs between winter’s leafless teeth
JESSE BREITE’s recent poetry has appeared in The Chattahoochee Review, Tar River Poetry, Fourteen Hills, and Rhino. Read more.