standing in my trees
trying to get to me
quietly reaching
can feel you leaching
on to me
the rivers flow
from my neck to my feet
can see you syphoning
so my children cannot eat.
who are you without me?
and now you want me dead.
you can’t belong to anyone
not when I’ve made your bed
pull up a chair
play with your hair
pretend that you’ve done it all
it will be over after the fall.
the fall.
