I.

Unfurrow an eyebrow
Lie on pine needle bed,
A pond to the left,
Peach trees on the right,
Standing like martyrs
Whipped by the wind,
their scent bleeding in the air,
cracking your mirrors.
Clouds safety pinned to the sky
whisper behind your head.
The tadpoles aren't the only ones choking.
Staring back at you, unrecognized,
not by choice, but by accident,
the only friend left, rippling in the gossamer scarf.
And time pulled the rug on you, do you regret it?

II.

And what did you do when it rained?
You filled the pond with native tears,
built the calm waters where your nose hovers,
and despite your efforts, have nothing to show
but upward, empty palms crying to the sky,
a dry plead to set free your gaze.
The only thing louder, screaming against
the rattling leaves, is the silence,
an old friend you thought had left you.
Foolishly you welcome it,
set it down by the hearth,
ask where has it been,
what other lovers has it known.
You warm tea for two,
and set out enough blankets for the year,
clinked glasses and wished each other well,
warmed by the fire, settled for the hard winter ahead.

she tells me through tears

you want me to fix you but i can't.

i look up at her as my brows unfurrow
and my clenched teeth relax.

and all i can think is,

well, if you can't then who can?

but the answer is clear

it's me.

and my eyes turn into waterfalls.

Let me decay into this garden.
Leave me slouching on the bench.
I'll blend into the roses after a while -
That’s all my body is good for this year.

I'll nourish Earth as it has nourished us all
With our deep red blood and water-logged skin.
Leave me in peace, please give me silence.
Here, I can be sedentary in solitude;
Blend into the ground;
Feed the worms and heal the trees.

Don’t feed me anything more.
Don’t cover me with clothing.
Don’t sustain my slouching frame.
Just let me wane in the wilderness
Where my skin is cold in the dampness
But heated by the melty sun that will soon be sleeping.

This mound is where I want to sit
Exactly as I am.
If I am going to die, I will die in this grass
With a bench below my thighs
And my toes gracing whatever green
Grows beneath them.

Let me fly, when the sun finally sets.
When the orange pool goes away
Is when I shall decay for a better place
Where my spirit has no knots or tangles,
Where strands of DNA unfurrow,
And every skin cell slips into the sludge that is rest,
And I can stretch my sentiments out on a cotton cloth,
Dye the fabric with my natural colors,
And that is all that's left of me in your world.

Like flowers drying on brick steps laid next to a trickling stream
Is how I leave the earthlings behind;
The creatures that constitute the land we run through,
Like ribbons of bliss that always fight for oxygen
Then drop like dead flies falling from diminished clouds,
Like a clump of rain that slaps your skin to remind you that
Pain is a part of being.

Bugs will bite. Splinters will sting.
Knives will cut. Skin always splits.

But when you sit under rose thorns and
Accept that your blood is as red as their fruit’s petals,
You will see we all bleed and our blood is sweet for a reason, and
Roses smell heavenly for good reason.