Tomorrow before we wake

 Imagine a forest of flesh, of twisted limb grottos,

green grey skin floored dells, rivers stagnate

drip with chaos rust, congealing in the crooks

of mothers arms. Torn people-roots matted

shattered copses in the vales, heads and hands

pulped in the scramble of tortured flesh vines.

Imagine a forest inside a lost child, that calls

for her earth mother. Stripling feet, cast

in blood clay waltz to the stamp of progress,

 to the teacher and the fool, to the whip

and the call. As the forester tears roots

 for alms, the un-innocent takes more fruit.

Imagine a forest without. Without trees

without people, without sap, without

 leaves, love, laughter, wind, sun, signs,

paths, broken oaths, memory, without

significant, concern. Condemned.

Now. You. Imagine a forest.