Iris

(THEN: An uncurling tide that lulls
– not a pause

Amniotic fluid and the silence
that anticipates the verb

Enter this space
and fill it with flow)

Girl, as you place down your tresses

you find there’s a song at the end of each curl
– so much of you that cannot be contained
in crimped dresses

Red flow, flesh flow, un-hollow
and find it in there, hello! – a soul
– hallowed

Once, you were given this chance
Where are you now?
Do you follow?

Trying not to sign up to fences,
the Heart can’t pertain fallow
– I am trying,

permanently ploughing this soul
and the land that surrounds it

These fields
are fiercely guarded
by the warmth of borrowed hands

and irises.