I want to be the type of person

Who can feel the mycelium network

Who trusts that underneath the first inch of

Wet rot

Lies a latticing of interconnectedness

A trust fall layer of netting

Fleshy reassurance

The stuff of keep on keepin on

I’ve never liked the taste of mushrooms

What does that say about my own renewal?

The great thick ick

Of loving other people

How embarrassing to be a thing

Of birth and death

Everyone can see it on you

The forest floor growing into the folds of your neck

Dirt that won’t come off

Oh yikes

SHE’S AT IT AGAIN

Growing a new spine out of the refuse bin

The pile of neglected ash

From the last time you set the world on fire

From the last time the world burnt up your body without a care

Here I am

I’m budding out of the darkest place

(It’s in the trees)

It’s coming