She succumbed
and fell beneath the parchment and pen.
Her eyes emptied.
Her mouth forgot to crack open.
The woman I was is used to this.
Tree roots need to eat.
Category: Tree
Ancestry, roots, grounding, lineage.
My heart is lifted from its hanging room.
Offered up to Anubis,
hemorrhaging love and dead hopes.
Even the feather feels heavy.
He sees me. He knows me.
Light stretching shadow-lines
over your body.
The faintest glimmer,
eye whites, catchlights.
My mouth takes your shape
as my heart blooms open.
Nails burn my skin.
Prayer fills my throat,
no word, no thought,
only nature’s ask and want.
We blend, skin to skin,
creating shapes,
hues that reveal,
I wear the scent of the tree,
wet bark, freshly peeled back.
Tearing strips, I tie
I build my fort,
securing branch to branch.
Cedar leaflet canopy,
above me,
loud voices.
Plates rattle.
Legs, covered in dust,
my shirt twisted up.
Hair pasted to my neck and forehead.
Sticky skin. Warmth.
I stay.
No one calls me.
Sap drying on my hands.