They die in the heat, sometimes. They
die in the afternoon sun, they die
beneath the moon. They need
more water, more shade. They
need—
I could feed this garden
with my blood.
Mari Ness
They die in the heat, sometimes. They
die in the afternoon sun, they die
beneath the moon. They need
more water, more shade. They
need—
I could feed this garden
with my blood.
It is hard to breathe, sometimes. Weights
press against my chest. I dig
my fingers into the shallow dust
to make room for something green.
Or hold my blood
within my skin
They die in the cold, sometimes. They
die beneath the shining stars. They die
in the dry air, fading green—
Savoring each precious drop.
Something trembles in the earth.
Something shifts beneath my skin.
And feel
My choices, held tightly
in my pulsing hands
the earth stir beneath my fingertips
as green leaves dance against the wind.
Author: Mari Ness
Other work by Mari Ness appears in Tor.com, Clarkesworld, Uncanny, Lightspeed, Nightmare, Apex, Nature Futures, Diabolical Plots, Kaleidotrope, Strange Horizons, Daily Science Fiction, and other zines. A poetry novella, Through Immortal Shadows Singing, is available from Papaveria Press, and a poetry chapbook, A Few Mythic Paths, from Porkbelly Press. For more, check marikness.wordpress.com, or Twitter at @mari_ness. All work is supervised, if not entirely approved, by two magnificent cats.
View all posts by Mari Ness