forest for the

when you thought
no one was listening,
I was. but no one
can listen to the
wind moaning
through the trees
forever, and expect
to live.

I’ll give my answer
to the birds. they are some
of my best friends. they’ll
carry what’s left of me
like crumbs to
the table, scattered
on the forest floor.

this late at night,
they turn off the light
and the white bed
in the woods is still full
of flowers, even though
no one can see them
but me.

lay me down upon it;
bury me in the clean
dark loam, fill my
mouth with dead leaves,
let my broken cries
dwindle to a quiet
choked-off hum.

it’s soothing here,
in the dark. I don’t need
a star to light my way;
I’m going nowhere,
now.