I am leaving
Apricot skin
Swimming into gnarled roots,
Sinking in the earth.

My shoulders turn to
Ironwood,
Hands clutched tight
In the rugged Texas dirt--

While delicate, little, soft green leaves
Rustle in the sun and breeze.
The sun pushes air over them,
And rivulets of juice
From a baby-toothed grin.

And twisted bark
And broadened trunk
Was twisted all
For apricot skin.

I found the devil in my soul
That would take us in his maw, and swallow
Somewhere between youth and age
And somewhere in
That twisting wood--

In as general as a sense
As i can mean.

And donning little skirts and things
I strutted through the grievous summer
Proud of my little message
For the world.

And people might not understand
But life is soft,
Like apricot skin.

Hard, like knotted wood.

Layered through with bands.