1. To begin buy ½ mile by ½ mile by half your swollen throat.
2. Strike to match white sage on your hallowed folded knees & 3. baptize the equation autumnal haven an ode of riddance to conflate your lungs full of planets full of istighat, full of deer-trailed paths.
4. Now find here the forest is dripping, 5. gather honey 6. add terroir to dirt your body deep to continue sanctification 7. bury your bones 3/4th earth under to dislodge Detroit deficit. To disengage those definitions that have dissected you whole / every direction you have swallowed in whole/ every last deception you were forced, 8. now swallow the forest. 9. Pine tress 10. moons 11. foxes finding leaves 12. the silence from the streets.
The derivative is to decompose / discover / uncover as you cover that you lie here full of tattooed history but no simple suitcase surrender.
Here the forest is & you are turning hundred & sixty acres alone & able to grow yourself holy to pour from the pines & oscillate complete absolution.
C.M. Keehl is a writer, dreamer & destroyer that fuels up on anything espresso &/ coconut. When not writing/ reading/ feeling everything all at once, she is chilling with her dog Carver. She is the poetry editor at Dirty Chai Magazine. Her work has been published & forthcoming in: Great American Lit Mag, Trans Lit Mag, Electric Cereal & Reality Beach. She tweets about motorcycles & dogs @cmkeehl