Mouth down in the timothy,

Belly flat, knees dug

Into the dark earth,

Tastes more birth than death.

World green and wet,

Not with tears, rides up.

All grass pushes up

Under no one, no I.

Here for the lying on is

Green grown wild and always.

Give up to the grass.

It forgives you wholly.

Where your father drowned,

After all the men

Before him, and women,

You not last in that line,

Flung and gone down

To the grassy underlands,

You wash in that green,

That grass in your hands.