v3 - 9/7/26

My fingertips are rimmed with jagged teeth,

the bark splits and falls to the forest floor

with little axes between these toes

the wildflowers twist and splat.

A scene that cuts through the fog of trees

where the ground is pine cones, cicada molts, damp moss.

My pupils are double slits-

in my dream you were here.

As I could see,

you were here.