I feel more at home among the trees,
As though my body yearns for grass against my skin
And leaves around my soul.
Like a weed pretending to be human-
Growing in the wrong place-
Prickly, green and funny shaped
And looking for something to uproot me.
So I’ll keep pressing flowers between these pages,
Hoping the outlines become veins that I can breathe through;
So petals fall around my feet like bombs,
To move the earth I didn’t want to be planted in.