New Branches

Elan Mudrow


My body is a gathering of harvests,

Preparing for the oncoming winter.

Old seasons place aches inside

Knees, ankles, and thoughts

Eyes are road weary wise

Voice is tuned to the key of time.

I’m a dusty divining rod

Shaking, vibrating, having found

Elixirs who lie in flux

Under my feet, beneath the crust.

That dancefloor, Earth, where

I executed many moves

Pirouette, The twist, boogaloo

A shing-a-ling, where I planted sprouts

Who grow strong, green, confident.

Their stems bending with the sun

Why? Because it’s a hell of a lot of fun.

It’s true I am soon to be stalks

Matter, to build nests for hawks

Though, my limbs appear falsely hollow

I still dance with toenails bent, yellowed

Looking forward to another coming of spring

Even if new branches, like arms, it refuses to bring

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