Green heart beating in the gray shroud

of mid-winter forest,

charts and lines that speak

to my vertebrae,

hills multiplying in a sliding land

behind many awesome mountains,

cliffs talking to vines and water

frail branches of a love that's torn

growing strong in disintegrating daylight.

Fronds of the tongue that was buried

gathering like the tail of a male

peacock, scattered sections bleeding

through oily soil, beds in the valley

of flowers that have overflowed.