Flower field

In the afternoon there was a flower field, knee-high
I wandered without a plan, without thought,
for no clocks were ticking
and the world was quiet
My footsteps inaudible –
but then there was a crack
I looked down, familiar eyes and a familiar nose and now broken hands
It took me a moment to recognize myself.

How long had I lain there?
When had my breathing stopped?
It was almost ridiculous, how had I forgotten so easily?

I must be rather careless – leaving my body to lie around like that
and now I broke it
and now I cannot repair
Bugs and mud and dirt and cold and flowers and
I'll wither
while worms and rain and sun will taint me

I give myself a shrug and walk away.