By: Andi V.D. Berge
Images of a Swamp Willow weigh me down
Statue my presence, petrify my face
Perhaps the monster’s toothed margin
its scattered warts on its alabaster belly
spare my fear a touch.
For its tentacles that root it still,
terrorize me the most.
The hush is almost tranquil, noiselessness
serves a calm but the tick
of time crescendos ‘til I crack
My little keepsake pattern,
always biting at my heels.