Herbaceous

Goatweed goatweed how you brighten my waste places with your yellow stars

blossoming in the deep space between my shoulder blades, where the sun’s

too weak to rise. Like any lover you make me dizzy and anxious, I can’t

get it up any more and you play badly with other medicines, such as

dust and pillbugs. Call me a shaman fundamentalist, but my dry bones

have never felt more possessed of life. In the otherworld I’m growing a green husk.