I closed the distance between myself and the ground.

I saw it beautiful and I wanted it:

on my knees in the mud of the meadow for this

one-stemmed, greenish-white flower.

The ground peeled away from itself.

A canyon where my life was.

The cracking of mud like the roar of black hooves.

A narcissus with a green stem. Rings

on the edge of my vision. Did I make it happen?

I know that I knelt. I know that I bent –