Olive Tree Necropastoral

— Fargo Tbakhi

they mean something (they ate my good lung)
rotten. i watched (their bark is ghost skin)
their roots slurp
my brother’s viscera
like tired horses (my mother’s skin)
and they grew tall
and i saw great mis
             s    h                                                a
                                                      pe (rilous their cemetery stench)
                                                      n
lumps blossom on
the trunks of them
and out hatched
drones and all of (like unmarked graves)
them knew me
and called me (i stumble into their collected dead)
by my chosen
name and when
they did it i was
emptied of flesh (soldiers piss on my leaf hair)
and the soil reached (when they burn i stink like
at me with claws
of grass to pull
its way inside
my skin and walk
at last burning)


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