The Overgrowth


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The Overgrowth

It needs a love never wrapped in words but wholly lived
to burn like a dry leaf and not fly away in the breeze
to lie on the open ground and watch a forest fire
race towards you from amidst smoky trees
I wait, willing to be crushed by fleeing hooves
trumpeted at and trampled upon by heaviness
that could sink a hill
for there is a brash sweetness in your absence
a rough-bristled tender bruise upon my breasts
and a breathlessness whistling in my ears
to keep me grounded, as full of life as a planted seed
while time, people, seasons-all zeitgeist villains
conspire to scrape me off the piece of earth
under which you sleep
©Reena Prasad

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