This Could Happen
If you kept walking you would eventually step out of yourself.
You would leave the bones of your body,
the bloodlines to all that you loved.
You would be free of breasts and legs, liberated
from the eyes of body admirers—
To travel this earth again like star lily or skunk flower
with the forbearance of golden bees.
If you kept walking out of yourself
you could begin again as seawater, as spindrift.
Don’t worry you’d say to yourself
you’re a virgin non-body, you’re a witness
to ten thousand new worlds.
No lungs, no heart, no breath—
Irresistible now, what might you see?
A bird’s dying shudder
or lovers knotted in a plotline of release?
You’re an example now
of nothing, a fountain of nowhere—