A water garden snakes
up through the throat & chokes
on St. Anthony’s prayer – that dampness

blanketing lungs, seeds sprout
faster than usual. It is always
faster than it usually is. It was

believed I would grow
to doppel
a Hepburn, though it wasn’t

specified which – It was believed
I would survive the drowning. After all
the caul bathed me before

you did, but Stepmother,
but Beldam, but Man with axe
& heart-box. I know it had

to be a trinity to web
my voice with florets,
dilating my bones

with oak flutes that betray
your clandestine & reveal
wisps of red hair

curling up from the bottom
of the well.