Autopoiesis
By
Jennifer Angelina Petro
They come of themselves.
Into, and unto, and out of
Themselves. They are
Hidden scryers peering into
My soul’s dark water.
My pen their whisper vessel,
Scream vessel, sobbing, joy,
River vessel. My mind
The bramble-snaggled thicket
They choose to flower through.
I do not know why I am
Honored such as this. How it is
They direct themselves
Through the broken guttering.
What I do know is that the brokenness
Is the lock, their autopoiesis
The key, their touching
The gateway that opens
Into paradise.