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.
Tag: becoming
Gravity came for me
fear tipping my skin cold
my mind on fire
my name peeled away
love charred to ash
sense made nothing anymore
I did not find any rope
on the way down
If I had
the knot would have slipped
my fingers would have missed
I learned how to disappear
before I ever learned how to rise
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.