Fruiting Body

out past the cane
among the rain-whetted
rushes,
blooms a thin flower-girl;
paint wedded to
her brushes

stilts and stalks and
sidewalk chalk
fall from her fingers
like petals;
sinking down
through the mud-covered
ground,
to melt and mix
in earth’s metals.

lashing out from her eyes,
round twigs and flies,
flail tiny tendrils of
vine;
while opening her mouth,
and turning slowly south,
she breathes out
undrinkable wine.

so, before you,
she stands.
unwinding,
she flushes;
gone in an instant,
a heap of ants
and thrushes.
they scatter away,
violent but free.
no other witness,
save the juncaceae.