Splitting the Family Tree
Tell me again how I come from a long line of men with knuckled hands,
women who birthed their children in bathtubs, in fields of daisies,
their love threaded, suspended like the sheets on the line.
Tell me how their DNA is folded into the stem of my spine,
planted here to grow like cornfields & bleed the color green,
buried stories still beating under Blue spruce in the backyard.