VOICE OF THE WOODS WHERE EVERYTHING STRAYS
I have been green as monsters and harbored their hunters.
I have been burned to soot and morels— enter me.
Every fable ends in me, but I think nothing of the morals.
I told the witch to eat the girl. Why not? I told the wolf
to eat the girl. Why not? Oh, this will be good, I thought
watching the prince steal the swan maiden’s feathers
as she bathed. Sap is neither blood nor weeping.
It is sap. Do not make me what you are. I am fern and furl,
tattooed bark. I want no part in all your feeling.
I prefer the sentience of moss, miniscule and teeming
like a rumor in the gaps. My tall bodies blown and creaking.
I am filled with breath and fissure. There is no stillness
here. Whir of my bodies seeding—I make myself more
(and) matter but do not mean. I sense you lurking my edges
like a confessant. Welcome, child. Lift the screen.