The meadow brims with wild roses and honeysuckle. His grip tightens, turning the picnic into murder.
He abandons you here, thinking the forest will consume the evidence.
We could swallow you, skin and bone. Give your hair to the birds, your heart to the foxes. But even the dark wishes to be kind, sometimes.
We spiral up your arms, blue fungi speckling your cheeks. White coral mushrooms emerge from your shoulder blades. We bring you back with phosphorus, exchanged for your mycorrhizal sugars.
Wake up.
You open our eyes, a multitude lurching to our feet.
There’s so much to do.
