Swaying in cool roots
of white, I feed the earth
from my hands and bones;
the moonglow

on my skin roots
I am a tree of the debris
I eat the leaves in backdrops of the sun’s
buzz; rain does nothing
to me. Between stem and finger,
I desert you like a mosaic of bones.

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I was tagged by the inspiring Ingrid on Twitter to join in on a poetry party—one year of poems under the existing tag #APoemADay. Please do check it out if you feel inclined.

Categories: Prose

Tags: Creative Writing, Fiction, Free-Verse, Literature, Micropoetry, Poetry, Prose-Poetry, Winter, Writing