you are
the dead
crawl
underneath the creek
pinprick
stars in
clay
pots, wriggling flesh and
loam
aroma squelch
beneath and
you are
muddy
tadpole clinging to the side of
the
creek, brown/green algae water
white
froth over smooth red rock
tadpole
dance leap because after all
you are
unbound
horizon, your bruised flesh
tender
prayer, cotton candy coffin
cradles
a secret seed
quiet
heart beat
rushing
river blood
you are
old oak
stone
tree
root drinking
warm
wine and legs
crossed,
mud beneath your fingernails
and
pinprick light breaks over/under the place
you are
aqueous
choking thick
black
water halo swirling an
icy
nimbus in your eyes
sink
struggling into tendrils
quiet
heart beat beat
where you are
(are you
not)
you
are
you are
not
not at
home.
(Note: revision)
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