white, a thousand small moons
yellow eyes pear where old branches left
we are standing like a memory that hasn’t decided
wind arrives and the leaves remember how to tremble
a soft applause for nothing in particular
just being here
gold was a rumour once
now it drips from every limb
a fire that refuses to smoke
roots passing messages the way ghosts pass through doors
trees are many until autumn tells the truth
listen
names you forgot loosen from your jaw
winter will dress them
bone-white choirs with no need of sound
just patience, just sky
I walk between their narrow shoulders
and feel my edges blur
some families are chosen
some are underground
holding you up whether you ask or not
the grove nods
a treaty with the living
tremble and be forgiven
stand and be seen
