You told me, once
when you died you wanted to be eaten
by a bear:
something used up and on the verge
of starving; something that would
feed on your for days,
savor your marrow.
Being a predator is terrifying.
You said, you are constantly
aware of death.
As if that made you brave.

I want to be eaten by something
more beautiful:
a snow leopard or a tree.
Dig deep roots into my hollow spaces
turn my blood to branches
so I can keep growing, growing
until I'm all
acorn bones and blue skies.
But maybe that's just me
being scared of dying.

Maybe that's just both of us
being scared in different ways.