Fieldnotes
I do not
want to peel
away our color
with my sharp
words
and yet
I do because
memory is the core
you eat around
Now our flesh
is exposed
and I landed
where I dropped
when the tree
let go
Now silence
is an orchard
is the last one
standing
the last one
stealing sound
echoing as light
across a leaf
by Kirsten Rian