The Morning I Realized My Fascination with Fields

1.

The field was open
like the mouth
of a sparrow

inside

where there are winding halls

You vanish

into a brand of forget-me-nots
and pollen

2.

I spent that morning knowing
that this was the one
I couldn’t
accept –

inside the pages

was a swan

still breaking
from its shell –

and yet,
it was fully grown,

miniaturized,

its back white

in its V of breakage –

of feathers and leaves –

I remember how

your eyes were red

when you tried to patent

this breathing
cloud.

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