My Hands Split Open

My hands split open,
Earth climbs up my blood
The voice of salmon beckon it,
It flows through every vein,

Pauses in the heart for breath
And then is pushed on through,
It climbs the horses of my pulse
And gallops headlong to my brain.

It filters back and forms a film
That drifts upon my eyes
There the mist can cloud my sight but
Joins my flesh to earthen dream.

And as my skin grows weeds and grass,
I stop becoming what I seem.
Ah, the edges soften more
As water off of hot rocks stream

Until my feet have gone to root
And shot my hair in twigs and leaf
Wherein the dust will blow on every breeze
And I receive the rain.

Copyright © 2011 James Lawer