Cornucopia

Lids are
Sealed
With storm grey
Heavy
Hair
Pulls me back
To seed
To soil
And the winding
Of unfurling leaves

Behind my hazel
Eyes
Before the ground
Before my first lashes
Leaves
Large as greasy hands
Swell
Buds memorise roses
And medusa
Would recognise
The sound
Of my mind
Filling
With this
Particular shade
Of green