Burdock, chokecherry, cowslip, knotweed

if we survive

oleander, lantana, chinaberry and cowhage

if we don’t 

here in the wild wilderness of our smallness

common interned places darkening under a fiddlehead moon

day six of lost in the woods 

black spur, milk bitter close your eyes 

press the dream of water to your lips

sassafras, jelly, gumbo

and the birds flock

sumac winter twig, lemonade tree 

bruising leaves on skin 

staghorn velvet earth from the Maritimes to Georgia

to Missouri

still hunting, bird pole 

at sea in the sweet flag patch

as the woodpecker works our coffin wood

prayers navigating their way through buttonholes

past the shepherd’s purse, past the dandelion

all the way to the bone

and night 

night, like a greasy mechanic with arms stretched wide

comes carrying the weed bible 

in place of Sunday.