This is what is will be.
To find flesh first is to see its second self
on the other curve of turn (1)

turn, (2)
turn, (3)
move (4)
toward the beginning of is
and the end of is.

This fruit, turning inward into itself,
a bend, concaves as flesh fades
sliding from stage
to next, edible to compost
(food for other things (5)).

This is what is
will transition to

it’s neither break nor down (6)
just move—the elements shift
and we find of course

nothing left
but bloom (7)

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(1) 'and in turn drew water'
(2) 'a philosophic turn of mind'
(3) 'I was given a turn'
(4) 'move a position'
(5) '[t]he effect such things have on the taste'
(6) 'in fact down land in the interior'
(7) 'I have certainly seen nothing like it since.'

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Hi. Here is another note. Footnoted phrases in this poem are lifted from the prose works of Frederick Law Olmsted, the landscape architect of Central Park, Boston's Emerald Necklace park system, and many many other recreational landscapes across the United States. My current manuscript-in-progress makes use of Olmsted's language in footnotes and in other ways. I started writing footnoted poems after reading Nicholson Baker's The Mezzanine. This is a good book. I find it most pleasing that everyone has their own method of reading a footnoted text (I read footnotes first, but I like it very much that you might not do this). [1]

[1] I mention footnotes six times in this note.