At the Gates


My body is a rainforest,

and I the guardian

sheathing the lock on the gate,

hearing the cyclone rise behind me

spinning in harmony with the frogs popping

from leaf to leaf

beneath an ocean rain

of various silks and slimes, which, fallen,

twirl and sari the cliffs

haggard-cut by the whisper-sea,

afloat with eyes: inward-poised, yet sharp as seaglass.

When shadowed hominids pass between verdances

I break before them like the trees

that crack beneath their step

I smell the their toe-jams, scrambled from the bloodred berries of the id

And I fall into the river where they flick me to clear the path

Which will overgrow again

with fruit-snakes and thistle-claws-growling

by the time I get back

to my feet and return

to my post

and my lock

and my sheath.

My body is a rainforest

And I, merely a malformed creature

darting for shelter


its storms and mercies.


Image credits in order of appearance:

Suspension bridge in Puerto Viejo de Sarapiqui, Costa Rica, 23 January 2004. By User DirkvdM on en.wikipedia – Photograph by Dirk van der Made (en:User:DirkvdM – for more photos see en:user:DirkvdM/Photographs)., CC BY 1.0,

Cataratas del Iguazú. By littletroll, CC BY-SA 3.0,


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