by JAYA PENELOPE
there was a forest in my bed
small forests on my legs
cold stars blazed
in my mouth in my mind
dreams ran like clear
water through the temple
of my skull
I built cairns of white stones walked
bare-breasted through the rainforest
at noon found my way home by starlight
I had not yet stepped out
of the invisible chalk circle
there was blood in my eyes stories
I could not tell roamed over my skin
I longed to speak
but the forest spoke through me
in many voices the cry
of the cat bird
a lost child. the guttural pulse
of koalas mating the green
circuitry of insects
sometimes I disappeared
into the rainforest bloodstream
became sap became water a dream
moving through the many
chambers of the strangler fig
the sinuous belly of the python
I’d wake to find the harsh cries
of the bush turkey startled
from my tongue