Poem 2,184

Exile Nothing

by Mike Bell28 September 2021

We must first agree to exile nothing –I find myself all alone under ancient

remnants of scaling canopies [dumbamong oaks which enfold thickness –

a century in a grasp] – I’m not myselfas I travel among trapped shadows –

Underfoot that stick-snap will alarmnature’s easily-frightened [I’m not of

that species – not any more] – A hum –this woodland reverbs – timbres – as

I press upon pressure-put-on paths –I’m alone & ready to be brutalised if

I meet my own face in these woods –This time-slow-mass grinds under its

growth – I lay on mulch & crawl as if afungal proliferation – a damp skin – in

shade I bloom as a capped threat as Iburrow between established roots – a

shadow of myself by moon-dousings –As my auld self rouses my corse – My

voice is lost as I dig deeper among itall – giving up nothing to sow myself

wide below a wild festoon of buds &beams [I’ll stay low in Lincoln green]