Overturn

I am more shrub 
than evergreen, more

drizzle than deluge. I am
overgrown garden and

uncombed field, thin
patch on a well-worn

sleeve. I am the heart
quiet in its envelope

of skin until wakened by
a clear and dazzling 

cadenza— And then
I say take me with you,

tip me note by note
into that deeper eddy.