finally knowing the difference between bright and poisonous

Trying to decide what's as beautiful
as a bucket of nails on a deck, rain by rust
almost blood-colored, almost life
starting over from nothing. I pick the moment
I didn't kill a milk snake, diverted
the spade at the last, harmlessly cutting
the ground, finally knowing the difference
between bright and poisonous. Or when

I realized she loves me, she loves me not
explains why daisies avoid us
as often as they can, I say Run, simple flower,
away from my need to know
anything at all, everything
would be better. Or when

I was given an electron microscope
by the Tooth Fairy, that was beautiful
too, to sleep painfully
on a deeper seeing, and wake, and cut
my mother's tongue to show her the cells
by which she told me, Your toast
is ready, sweetie. Which it was

every morning, buttered and jammed
and cut in half, an application
of disorder that created
a different sense of order. As when Chartres
is broken into a thousand
puzzle pieces and becomes
a system on a table
more interesting when a piece or two
or three go missing.

[Bob Hicok {1960- }, 'You name this one', from Elegy Owed]