Don’t Smoke in Bed Antonia Alexandra Klimenko Blessed are the trees that fall to earth from the height of centuries the vertical symme-tree of sky fall to earth as I fall to you with a hush then turn to ash Camped as we are at Heart’s core the ground gives sway— your magnetic pull drawing me to you— opening your pathways your secret roots and springs— your bough breaking gently overhead Branch by branch I descend into your forest— take refuge in your whirling blue jungle of stars your mother-tongue radiant and unspoken flickering through the leaves Branch by branch I defend your shrinking shadow as I would my own— my own twisted limbs my own fading pages dripping with the sap of fresh sorrow Here on the edge of the forest Night falls as trees into silence— the lament of felled Evergreen the shudder of every drum roll echoing in the subterranean passageways of my mind Here on edge of extinction smoke rises and blossoms like breath into flower— passes through the cathedral of our sighs
99.
