sidebrow

Released

an unwashed portion 



of the woods in winter



names darkening up through 



his hips, catching hold 



on the low branches



near my window






*





branches whisper



that the air inside a person



is dangerous and out



of sync, a density 



of cells spreading down 



to the roots






*





looking out, tracing movement 



my brother is the pine tree



with blood, my curtains 



kept loose for 



the wind and his whispers


about home






*





couldn’t find my throat 



or arms until he kissed



my hands, we mapped



my chest and split my nose



to get out, we couldn’t 



let his cabin let me go