140

There was first a seed,
Opened ground, a blanched hollow.
High in the chambers

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Of the air, soft rain.
A wombcase of clay. Hallowed
In earth, it germinates.

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The soul's-shape of it
Tumbled from the earth like fire,
Violet, orange.

*

Now wind saws through it,
Dessicate organ. Chassis.
Catastrophe—speak.