Mutable

Summer rain has sliced its

edginess in the air. 

Underfoot, grass’s intimate murmuring 

steps aside &

Oriental poppies lie splayed & defeated 

at my feet. 

I stretch my disabled leg as far 

as the road will take me

enabled by the flush of elder’s 

resourcefulness, 

    its poisonous mutability. 

Newly flowered & fruited, 

I follow the leader: 

I am moss 

wedged in all the tiny places, 

I hide in thick, wet leaves: 

my blanket against rain's 

sharpened claws. 

My new life against the odds coats me in what-ifs,

holds me at arm's length.

Touch me & I separate.