I
When
the fires
sweep the floor
lick the crumbs
gorge the feast.
When
the ribs jut stark
skeletal, a scaffolding
of scorched
tree spines
bristling, a biome
become cemetery.
When
the charcoal
wastescape is
cluttered by
charred roots,
tree stumps lodged
like crooked teeth
.
in the bones
of the forest.
Then.
Death is complete
and rebirth begins
decomposition
becoming creation.
Then.
In the black
mass of detritus
spores
break
loose
sprouting colonies
of embryo bodies.
Then.
Fire morels grow
by honeycomb chambers
kindling breath
in the ashes
heartbeats pulsing
life back to the bones.
Germination and bloom
release and rebirth.
Then.
II
When
the floor fell
from beneath
my feet, the
walls collapsed,
When
Everything outside
of me fell to pieces
everything inside
of me melted,
questions and footsteps
left in the debris of before
When
I took the trail
under the trees
because –
because –
because –
what else
was left?
No turning back – my eyes
could only see the path ahead.
Then.
I turned a corner
into a dingle
a cluster of morels
growing from the ash.
Then.
a celebration
of saprophytes
brown gnome caps
geometry of lines
creamy trunks gilled
and frilled like petticoats.
Then.
I stood in awe of
life in this wasteland
the whimsy of waste-fed
bodies – pioneers
rebuilding land
from devastation
every fibril
reforesting rubble.
Then.

