Leaf Litter

Wet soil sticks to my skin.

It clings to the crevices

Lining my palms with fate.

I have leaves under my nails,

Invertebrates in my eyes.

.

There is something cosmic

Digging in my bones

While I rip up the biome.

Can it feed the hunger?

Or am I simply to starve?

.

The leaves gather their

Very own harvest which I

Am not invited to.

But I like to dream about

Those pretty fairy rings.

.

I like to smear mud

Across my irises, scratch up

My corneas until something

Looks nice again to this

Cynical vision.

.

Kaleidoscopic leaf litter,

Glittering gem dew drops,

Things that melt the mask,

That decompose this

Carefully curated face.

.

I don't know what's under

The collective tons of debris

Fallen from the canopy,

From the old-growth height

Of dreams rotting inside out.

.

Their roots are damp with it,

With the pervasive decay

Creeping like ivy through soil.

Touching like a man too eager,

Too willing to hurt for pleasure.

.

I am soggy beneath my bark.

Stoic and firm on the outside

Waiting for a storm to do

What others won't and touch me.

I will fall under red canopies.

.

The fog that follows is a kindness,

A blanket across the still-hidden planes

Of a face I've never known.

I don't wish to ever know it.

I wish to sleep under the leaf litter.