pinelands
enter me
darkness felt-thick
trees bouquet their fascicles
cranberry bog-swaddled
kettle steam echoes the
wyvern-flit window
there is nowhere left to hide among
the pines & pines & pines
each of them a musical
praying horse head
a roadside corsage
my newest infant’s birthmarks bite
it is here they will legend me with broomsticks
between my legs & legs & legs
always just beneath
your strip-malls & sundry shops
their light is spooling too
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