Irises and Donkeys

Whole heir of the sole world,
Where some predictions work
And some predictions don’t,

A word, if you don’t mind—
The presence that changes
Every discrepancy

Inevitably is
Absence—of all the things
To name, from irises

Unfurling blue sepals
Hip-high in spring gardens,
To donkeys eyeing them

Across barbed-wire paddocks
As if goddesses lived
In them—you had to shape

The possibility
Of a name for nothing.
You complete idiom,

All-encompassing talk,
Creator of genius—
Name your inheritance.