this tree had flat shoes
'flatees' she would call them
broad not thin that tapered in
to the unbroken moss and liverwort covered earth
where crawling things make
something of themselves
apparently out of nothing
just like
she had all of that thicken and rise
foliage and flowers some-time
snatched from the air like a promise
as if thought could be solid drinking light
she would swallow streams making them
flow up her throat canals in defiance
of gravity itself
transported by affinity alone
until as easy on the ear exhalations of joy they became
cloud-form
laden with chemical speech saying
all of those things one life might say to another
she moves tenderly seeking a way between obstructions
joining strut limb to limb long toe to toe
knowing
something of the frisson of the little movements
inside her sleeve
outside her arms reach
she was always one for sensible shoes
small steps
gentle exercises
stretching out slowly as far as she could go and then coming
to rest
by the smallest of increments orienting
herself to the sun and easing through outside of notice
where green and sappy thought lives
as the movement of air through leaves
its vellum moss folds of consideration
lichen flecked caught in the act of vanishing
bats.
overwinter the plums, all ignored
shrank to bat like husks
sleeping fixed to the branches
in the scraped light
dried out
they clacked dryly against each other
the wind tugging their umbilicals
disappeared wreathed in white early flowers
were found hiding in the profusion when
trees were reborn
these corpses of sweet ones
overlooked late summer’s swells are
changed utterly now
with skins
all of white spores and pin-head orange
eggs waiting
they are become both beginning and end
birth and death
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