Seedbed

Datura stramonium

by Lisa Gill

When I lost my equilibrium
I found the ground
and what grows there.

A trumpet of guffaws.

As if I’d misplaced
my attention. Simple error.
Egregious.

I broke a sweat
grappling with gravity
with God.

Initiated into overblown
blossoms and seeds
of anything

my body became
a distant horizon
I reached weeks later.

Now when the sun sets
my pupils flower
and I can see

less of this body
and more of the world.
Aha.