Vegetal Generosity
Shadows seep through my eyes
blindside
recollection.
A cartography of memorial rings
etched year after year
in a backscape of trunks
records irresolute rhythms
of storm and sunshine
that distort crusted bark
and
smart at their own longevity.
On this plantation sap distills in
reams of cropped timber
quarries inlets through
weather-beaten biographies
that
propagate by instalments and shade my scribbled leaves.
I cover pages formed from the flesh
of trees
with seminal inscriptions
framed to echo their own images
until they outgrow their stanzas
germinate footnotes
and release seasoned spores
ingrained
with habits of composition.
I use
tissues made from wood pulp
to
wipe away salt traces
from the sharp thrust of seeds
that gestate and crack and grow
with no finer purpose
than to rouse reticent sprouts
in
parched undergrowth.
I add rings to my trunk and
wrinkles to my bark
spread compost over embedded roots.
At times I long to transplant
but find content in scattered
leaves
enlivened with green bloodstreams
gently drying to paper-thin
maps
etched with routes of biorhythms
and
not yet mulched.
Mori Glaser
Mori Glaser grew up in the UK and moved to Israel 30 years
ago.
Mori’s poetry appears in various publications including Unbroken;
Crack the Spine; Vine Leaves coffee table book; Between the Lines Anthology of
Fairy Tales and Folklore Revisited. She won 3rd prize in Molotov Cocktail’s
2017 Shadow Award. Her flash appears in Akashic Books web series Thursdaze; Arc-24.
Tags:
Poetry