The Lily and I Look Up To The Sky

I watch fissures in the pavement

every crack, a suitable microcosm:

life, death, and organic rubbish.  

My head down, I think of what my neck

is doing to my jaw. It’s hard to open now:

painful joint, one-sided tooth alignment

The perfect crack exists for me, somewhere

in this sidewalk: deep enough for shade,

shallow enough to convince the nutrient river

to flow over me:

                        sentience

                                    agency

destabilization.

I need to be washed over

fertilized.

I am no weed nor leaf nor seed,

but rather a fleck of soil willing

to serve. Given the condition:

I can split this sidewalk into a grand canyon

Turn a desert’s rain into new-Thymes

Let the seed to make a lily find me

Let us be carried to the canyon rims

where the runoff collects, and our family begins.

-Grant Durando