Into the woods

Poetry Dark woods with a focus on a single gnarled branch

I walk into the woods one night,
into the woods where I know well
what lurks its depths, what slithers its floors
what gnaws its bones, what feasts its flesh. But,
I won’t fault the woods, it is bound and we
unbound still wear the forked tongue, the canines sharp,
the hard shell skin deep.

I walk into the woods one night and the trees
close behind my footfalls.
You may follow me,
follow me long, and find me
spread, like a fallen star in the dark,
red wild berries strewn and a root
of a white oak tree
pierced through the back of the chest
and up, something that finally, finally bore
into my very core.

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