Dispersal

The dandelion seeds of the summer

Of have spread through December.

Everything mockery

I remember how the lips closed

And pushed air

To shatter the globe.

Now it is winter

The trees disrobed

In their ceremonial gesture

My fingers missed splinters

Though my wrists were with rope.

Let my hands be sacrificed

Legs closed

And palms with the veins 

Elope over the table.

Nothing will grow

I am conscious as a failure

As two feet find the garden.

They are called my own.

The order of the day is to wake

Wear clothes, breathe

Pick up the seeds of  my pupils.

See.

Sow.