Zip your legs together, which form your sapling trunk,
While naked heels and toes push into the carpet.
Gather living green things, like a scrape of moss
Or spade-shaped grasses. Collect a cupful of earth
And fill your glass bowl terrarium.
Consider.
Paint a stone, a shell, a pebble, a seed
With your grandmother’s clear nail polish, and
Tap on it like a turtle drum.
Fish your red sweater from the cedar chest,
Pull its sleeves over your palms.
Survive.
Slide a metal spoon over the ball of your foot,
Envy its frank coldness, then thank it all the same.