Re sharing from @dronme 🌹 Remember when I was a young axe making promise after promise to the young trees? Stump speech in the mode of hypothesis. Bravado. Cue to the fall. When I lay flat on the floor with him & said A relationship doesn’t end with one person running. I am not about to die loosely jacketed among the burr oaks. Together it’s dark-starved chlorophyll burning. Tell him to pick me up. If I say marrow, if I say caught. If I love cedar & thistle & curve, I’ll keep it so quiet. November is wood-notch, frozen dirt, rain. I’m working for light. I’m bleeding for lightness. Society of the tomahawk, I defend my speech on the nature of secrets. I marry mine to a yoke. I want to know if two years are the measure. What they are the measure of. Cut once. If a woodpile is reason when brambling. If the dark if the dark if the dark. Thank you for doubting me so I swung hard. // from Brute by Emily Skaja // Frida Kahlo, The Dream, 1940