mabel_____

"Flora, Fauna"


my bones
are made of sticks and stones.
my flesh is dirt
my heart, pinecones.
all these years
I've grown up, and up
alone
with my ceiling stars,
with my tree-trunk scars.

I've had no family until you
my pirate, my lush,
introduced me
to your humanity,
while we tumbled
together
in the underbrush.
we could be happy
the two of us,

were my roots
not too deeply dug
to suit your wander-
lust
the call of your ship
the call to the sea
to seasonally rechart the isles
of your misery.

and each time you sail off
to drown your sins
again
I tear a little more of
my pine-needle hair out,
my branches drawing down
the moon, cold weather
for company, and an
empty tree-trunk of a womb.