the tree

is a closed temple; i cannot ascend up the slow-formed, fountain of limbs like carved pillars; pay homage to its self-made existence with my own short life and death; nor any physical act of worship, to praise something which an inner tree in me is looking up to; reaching out through these leafy words... ...

ade mc @ ade's press for a poem from: 'in ash on the sand: last burnt poems' (2021)