o, forest you carry much weight: stripped of sustenance your furrowed dirt yet nourishes ferns unfurling. i wear your wariness threading through landscape and swallow the burden so the heft sits in my belly. as you speak sunshine i rearrange the soil under my fingernails, finger to thumb, root to root damp moss patterned in veins of unruly justice and write to you— you in power you in the marble halls empty of heady wilderness, you who drags his heavy hand across boreal ground, you with the red tape and knotted tongue wielded only for the wealthy you who exploits his driver’s seat to keep the world turning in his favor you whose throne is built by blackened skies blackened earth blackened oil extracted and burned all for the cash (always the cash)
From: Vol.09 N.01 – A Poetics of Rights
in which i photosynthesize broken promises
by
Taylor Stoneman