you electric
slide into my dream
black root sprawl
split river, cloudless
unplanted sage
I can see into our past
tarot knives again
your wrists like opera
pinkish reason
my insides glow
a mountain of 
post-colonial worry
ashes, new woods
I’m running from 
a dance I learned
garden-ward
if the wood floor’s
a constellation I’m
the goddamned sun