Tropism

How can you




throw out




a seasonal plant




that still yearns?

Soluble

I taste my eyes drinking

the specter

of deception's storehouse,

 

I cannot contain the edges of my doubt,

or hold the radiance of your elegant lie.

There is nothing to say,
and nothing to say it with.

 My skin has become
 the burnished membrane
of hard devotion.
© 2010 by Kathryn Feigal. All rights reserved. 
(inspired by Jonas' post and comments: click here)

Arboreal Reaction To Stress

gray,
tumorous,
botryoidal,
gnarled,
knurled,
burled,
rough bark for protection -
like me.