I bear a birch from my belly
And watch it claw upwards towards
The place where gods are said to be
And it crumbles while leafing
Shedding flakes of timber tears and
Pouring bird songs over all the parts
Of me the roots don’t go.

I want to climb it but it is
A stake impaled through me and
Pulling with my flimsy arms with
Every might just doesn’t get the
Rising done so I lie on my back
Face-up and taste the rainfalls of
The heavens that the tree from me
Is racing towards.

I say, Why doesn’t every man and
Woman give themselves the seed that
Sprang wild from me and flared like
A spire of graceful ambition slowly
Ambulating the staircase to the
Stars and comets and planets and the
Big beautiful dark? Split me apart
Dead here is a good place to be.

I bend back and give the rest,
And to the earth I sink and the birch
Holding the soul that was once in
My body suddenly flumes free and
Reaches past the Milky Way in a blazing
Beam of white.

In the black, I hear it,
Thanking me. And I give a sigh.

Turns out I’d done alright.