The Leaf

the new shoot died
i pressed against it so hard
that it snapped and its
bright leaf withered

i never should have done it
lifted it
to talk to you - your voice
of glass cracked my
smile and the small flame
died

i was green and 
uncurling and then i
spoke too soon and
all the life went out of me

i saw then what
i could not see and now i am
contrite and entirely
ungrowing my green veins

do not rush
with blood and
my head is hurt -
i am re-

broken and
all over again
unfit
for the duty of it -

for a life of freshness
and stretching
new on the stalk -
my leaf fell

before it formed
i will tell you
no more
of my heart -

it must be green
and live

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