No One Speaks of How Tendrils Feed on the Fruits
no one speaks of how tendrils feed on the fruits
of my demise these dead hands for instance that alight phlox
wild strawberry and pine this is my body out of context rotting in the wrong hemisphere
I died so all my enemies would tremble at my murmur how it populates their homes
so I could say to the nearest fellow dead person I know more than
all my living foes I’ve derived sun-fed design for once from
closing my oak eyes now they’ll never snare the civilian
pullulating my throat
Copyright © 2019 by Xan Phillips. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 26, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.