(Neomarica gracilis, Walking iris, Apostle plant)
Rhythm’s afoot. My fingers step to earth.

They put down roots. They stamp and stamp their whorls. 
            Worms lay down routes: a red stampede: air whirls.

            The sun, another plantigrade, treads heat. 
The sun, another plantigrade, spreads heat:

I raise a dozen incandescent masks. 
            Abuzz, I lower incandescent masks,

            I blow faces, ephemeral but famed
bright-blue faces. Perennial and famed,

my fingertips tingle with certainty.       
            My fingertips tingle with certainty:

            I turn and turn twelve diminutive selves.
I turn and turn twelve diminutive selves.

Rhythm’s afoot. My fingers step to earth.