when I fell from the tree
that summer
I thought that I had died
I lay amongst the moss
and leaves and tubers
and ties uncoupled in my mind
the sky was filled with dandelion
and heather
and soft, unearthly sound
it seemed to me an exodus
from heaven of strangers
coming down
oh down

where once a canopy
benignly waved over my head
now only bitten fingers tick
against a sky of laboured breath
yet it is not so truly unfamiliar
this agitated dream
where mourners chatter at my bed
and suck my flesh into the earth

delivered under to disassemble there
dispersed and wonder-filled
I do not miss the air

down amongst the grasses and
down amongst the beetles and
passed between the earthwormsmouths underneath the landed dew
air filtering like water
far down below the mourners
and the blind things
in their kingdom come