i.
Beast begotten, barely awake or recognizable,
I begin.
I’ve held lavish nightmares as easy excuses,
For as long as I’ve held my breath.
Bit my tongue, bid my time,
Bloodmouthed and blacklunged and silent.
Belied by the quiet, while I wait to flourish.
ii.
I’ve been a lovingly lost,
Poorly rooted devil of a boy,
Lace layered tightly between my marigold bones,
All witchbred and lovesick.
I have pulled wormwood from gravebed,
Stripped bark to read.
I have carved lovely promises,
From treated birch.
I have beckoned melody,
From willow lungs.
I am fluent in the language of fallen trees,
And i will vow with no tongues less precious, if you let me.
All dogwood blooming, like new inks and dyes.