Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
tabitha Oct 2012
There is a Tree sprouting from my belly
I lie on my back,
I watch her bare branches dance
her fingers and arms obscure the moon
her summer clothes lie underneath me
dresses the colors of Summer’s forgotten heat;
red, orange, yellow
That old naked Tree tells me,
“Bunch up child, build a fire,
use my naked, sleeping limbs for warmth.”
“But,” I sleepily reply, “you’re so beautiful,
it would hurt to tear myself from you.”
…silence as reply
all trees grow silent when cold or angry.
As humans tend to do…
I fill the empty space with words,
“Can’t I just stay here a lil while?
The Moon looks so real through your limbs.
So close it could be part of me.”
“Yes, my child, you may stay,
and yes that moon is a part of you, and a part of me too,
but do not stay long ‘neath these ancient naked limbs,
lest you forget where your limbs end and mine begin.
Go dance for those who can’t
dance for those who chose to forget
whose limbs are whose.
dance for those who became one with beauty.
Go dance for the trees. Dance for me”
tabitha Oct 2012
bumblebees
big and fat and black
like Cedric the Entertainer
sitting in the kitchen
puking in his hands
house flies
tabitha Oct 2012
let us bleed
reflections of the moon
onto white velvet sand

the fire breathes
through holes in the barrel
giving flames a taste of night

open air fuels conversation
oxygen feeds fire
becoming animals
we dance like flame

the sun will tear the sky apart
devouring galaxies light years away
making a mockery of the fire’s warmth

we have our kindling
fires start behind the eyes
trust the ashes of memory
to bring us home again

— The End —