Growing
By Erin S., Birmingham, AL
i was close enough to see the veins in your eyes branch
and dip under each iris, a sort of protective shield
against everything your eyes saw when they opened
or closed. my throat was flaking into snowy chalk
in the hope of knowing where the roots of the branches were entombed
and what the tree would look like in full bloom.
my throat and i wanted to know
everything that your tongue could purge
from your gut, but most especially
the things that it couldn’t; the things
that were trapped, wrapped up in your bile
and smothered there under an acidic blanket.
i’m not sure any enzyme found
in the human body could digest something so
intense, but i would lend all of mine to you if you’d like them.
in the meantime i’ll water my trees for you
until they grow out enough to entwine themselves
with yours. i’m just not sure that all this salt is
much good for them. and while i wait to find out,
i’ll let my arm blossom into a vine whose uppermost twigs
i can braid into a blanket with your matching models.
i know you like to keep your flowers hidden,
but the gates to my garden will never be locked to you.
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