fr. Greek amnion, originally “vase in which a sacrifice was caught,”

                          from ame “bucket” or amnos “lamb”

Sack of potatoes. Sack of faint sound.

I imagine myself in your place,

transparent membrane.

The first flood is always ripening,

all of history made of mother.

Inside the pocket

of my pants my fingers feel

for something. A forgotten coin,

a past life. A crack of white

spills into thread. Soil sweats

in a crumpled hand. I have been held.

I hold. I will be held,

again. The first waters whisper

a prayer that begins with cistern, ends

with tomb. Besides the well the weeds

rise tall, peer into the basin

with their thin necks, witnessing.

We all began in a bag of tricks,

a bucket of sap, a vase of lamb’s blood—

small offerings. A buttercup grows

amber in the dusk, budding & bleating.

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