A winding concrete floor
stamped into a hill
led to wood carcasses of all
shapes piled on top of each
other in uniform, without disarray.
Without limbs, decapitated and dry,
they spoke an alien language that
could only be decoded by the roots
of a tree not so far away. It wanted
to lend itself to the cadavers nearby
and so it dislocated its cores, it
extracted its legs up where the
summer air touches the dirt, just
enough to create entryways and lumps
just enough to let me trip and fall
over its futile yearnings.
I limped over to the apodal forms
and carved my name into its ridged skin,
and went inside.
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