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| Creep near me my poison tree. My mouth your earth, take root. Choke me quiet. I will chew your bitter bark. I will soak your dirty sap. We will shush beneath a fleece of blanket, gather warming fire sticks and slowly sew some wordless leaves. We will be such slumber babes. Webbed shut together sticky sleeping, thread of whisper from your lips and to my sucking sucking lips. You and I typed dots across my vacant mouth. To be continued, maybe, maybe just to stay a piece of space. Waking later in that train of points, new and bloody. Moved across the sick flat world and to your marriage, to that point. To your children later. The point at which a bad black mark was dropped to water spread by spread. A blatant point, ugly with the red mess of my living body. My very own. But I’ll always lie and be here for you. I am caught, and stuck, and always poisoned, just like you. |
| Our Poisoned Tree |
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| by Chloe Meakin |