deep red swells from skin
an eyelid opens black
how deep do the roots go —
where is the tap?
the shutter mouths of stomata pinch the sky
as air dries
as the blue dawn snaps
leaves narrow to stretched tears
flash light, tinkling molecules
then measure the years of fire
in waist-high wattle
being reveals in shattered yellow
offerings of dust
to charm beaks and tongues
wade the undergrowth
wind stems through fingers
my arms cover
leafed, heavy with particles
somewhere in the connections
of receptors and cells and secretions
they remember
daily red-shifts of light
pronouncing the orbit
and another light –
the muscle of flame, to deepen black trunks
they like the woodlands
they like to be entangled
swollen organs wait to erupt
raise oil and wax to red winds
blackened liquid can bleed from wounds
and time leaks from my body in a dark artery