Ghost Tree

Ghost Tree – Amy Lauren


Moss drapes
my lips. She


tell me what
the river’s like
& my bones melt.


Her hair
smells of mint
& pinecones, only


softly unlaces
her branches.
Swallows fly


singing, cicadas
chirping first calls
as her roots stretch


to vine my body
in her stronghold,
rings multiplying


her circumference
with new lines, each
repeating no,


this isn’t dying yet