Categories
daisy poems Poems

sing

trauma leaves the body through voice

as a gust of bronchiole wind through branches

what’s that thing called when trees grow with just enough space to unmesh them from other trees? free yet connected

people are the same

maybe other warm things too, look how

that crow dances from tree to tree, unfettered

two magpies jump for joy unsynched on that wall

this light little sparrow flit-flies home untethered