have I told you
that sometimes
hot magma buried deep
breaks through the surface
I just want to disappear?
envelops my thoughts
in its scalding red grasp
shrivel up like my dead plant, Doris Lane
cleansing the words I’ve used
to stutter and stumble
fall into the soft earth
burying them deep
beneath rock and mineral.
and let it reclaim my body piece by piece.
you see, the earth has healing powers
did you see it on my face
when my gaze couldn’t quite meet yours?
and all things must die
have I told you
I’m sorry?
to live again.