the trees are wrinkled and ageless,
their height blocking out the sky
only the twilight dwells here
they are singing to each other
i have walked this forest my whole life
my small frame is as timeless as the stars
the largest elm in the glen is gentle
he remembers being planted
when the world was but new
and the sun was an ember in space
he calls to me, with whispering wind
'foliolum, puer saltus, sit'
under his shade, i grow flowers
coaxing them to bloom with songs
of spring and warmth and love
these trees are my brothers,
my sisters, my father in bark
my heart is a sapling
i grow
i grow
i grow

There is something unknowable about you
a curse word, terrible and crude,
itching to be spoken, dancing on the tongue
flames licking the throat
hellfire blazing in eyes shrouded
by a palpable darkness,
bright as a falling star
catastrophic as a crashing comet
you are an altogether
beautiful and damaged thing
the weeping wound
and the blade itself.