POETRY
Of any good nature
Squandering our chances
I scrape sanity from bark
denuding the trees
raking my fingernails through moss
hoping it will swallow me, smother me
pull me down
and give me to the roots burrowing in earth
rich with decaying leaves and last year’s acorns
for what can I do but raise my head at the sky
declaring my wretchedness at something, something
more beatific, less horrific
than what lies in wait beyond this refuge?
I bury my nakedness
into the loam
and hear it groan and wonder —
how have I grown tall
under the weight of all I carry in my head?
the land beats its breast on my behalf
reverberating in my chest, my lungs, my liver
I burst under the pressure
and my essence joins with the blood of this earth
tainting the water with my viscera
as it tumbles over rocks
fallen branches, fallen angels
prostrate in the river
grasping at the banks in desperation
beseeching to be washed clean
flayed alive or dead
it doesn’t matter
