i don't plant things

to forget

Photo by Caspar Rae on Unsplash

if the ground had a heartbeat
it would remember

sometime earlier
when earthquakes hadn’t cut empires
into caverns of dust

there were oak trees raining acorns
and dragons resting
on salty earth.

Nothing could be trusted
so it trusted itself
to grow far under and in between

none of them are left as far as i can tell
and I won’t be looking for them either

why would i

dust can’t be planted and i have dreams of rich soil
a bundle of kittens
mysterious goats
puppies being born.

a window open
the roots don’t rot
say prayers under floorboards
and light slanted through sun speckled trees.

I see the light on them
wild untamed

and across the table
steaming tea for a viking returning

after years at sea.