Wetlands
I become a body of leaky edges seep out wounds cycle through cordgrass spring moonlets and new rings decked-out each evening become estuarine light a cattail-ed moon so many years people poured their cups into me tight sutures dissolved and soon I spilt stories without discernment my own wet ruin breeding grounds for swamp snakes years back she developed blazing migraines allergies to favorite imbibements I say this not to claim she loved me but as evidence still waters spill over eventually that even the driest of season gives way to flood I give way to water when it calls swim deep in tributaries till they mirror out darkness shake loose silt low in hips wash star-song downriver through arms’ arterial flow feel tides rise in bones before rivers crest banks call back to some long-misplaced source a sinkhole in fields now home a mishearing of what we hunger for
Amulet
I ran so fast in dreams I flew from one place which was a world setting to take place from branch bud blooming crimson emerging from chest. Atrophied muscles re-learn sensation burn the field down to what remains rooted dark in deep rot. To be large enough to hold another continent an assortment of characters and scenes indices of narrative thread seed-stitched in sinew, to outgrow the smallness of a story and compost boggy into new form. On a star-soaked night I gathered comet-tails, an advance on prairie grasses and wildflowers simmering my interest in their skeletal remains kindling to quicken ready to burst to flame to launch me into eye-searing transit.
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