sometimes,
if i breathe hard enough,
i can feel my feet sink into the ground
plant themselves in the earth, as if
they were two trees growing out of my hips.
i can feel them feeding me - anytime
i put my hand to my stomach,
i feel the muscles at work, fueled by
cell bodies that all call my body
their home. at least i shelter them,
even when i feel like a broken window
in a rotting, red-oak shack that creaks and cracks
in all of my once safe places.
the dirt tries to bring me back to life,
but I have to let it.
let my soles take root in the mess I have made,
and the mess no one can avoid.
**** is the best fertilizer, anyway.

sometimes, if i sit hard enough,
i can recognize my own body as
the perfect function that it is:
branches and growing, planted and going.
then, i can feel myself move again.