Alone with the hydrangeas
purchased at the grocery store in Midtown
Jackson and unevenly planted in the clay,
my body was once like that ecosystem
alight with invertebrates, and I would
become one, a vessel of soft tissue reddened
and enlightened.  I look through a sequence
of trees, black limbs mossed and dewy
for the galaxy undone. I’m bringing
my bony knots into thanksgiving for the waxing
night lolls. I don’t have what it takes
to ask a meaningful question
of its circumference or grace.