forced decay

i clap once and it is thunder.

cut me open and count my rings;

see the years i have spent

as a bird, chained to

the perch, its wings

clipped by god.

flames swell in front of me;

a sunrise in the dead of night.

smoke and sparks and

moss and ruin and

the wood crackles.

my bones break.

november stretches before me

as a hollow jaw

with a split down its centre.

sore and rotted,

splintered and raw.

a miracle in anatomy;

an opening for something new

to take root.