I am not a tree, ascending
to reach the heavens.
Although I’m not quite grounded,
I have been
under-ground & longed
for cooling water
in the dark–
a thirst that made me reach toes through
midnight soil, hoping
to grasp another like me,
tenderly.
This vigilant earth
obscures us when we
interlock
ourselves & sprawl. Now & again
our fruiting bodies
emerge: strange, dazzling, ever-
expanding.
Published by Sammy
I’m Sammy and I use they/them pronouns. I’m an avid reader, small-time gardener, and aspiring author. I live with my wife, our dogs and cats, and my hens in the hills of the Ozarks. I gravitate toward themes of liminal spaces, southern landscapes, generational traumas, and queer identity. This is where I dig in.
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honey gaze 