Savage Flora

 

Do you know how long,

you would need to sit still

very still

before a tree could see you?

 

Sometimes I imagine it,

Sitting at the base of tree

For a year.

Two years.

An epoch.

 

Things would grow around you.

On you.

Through you.

 

Nature devours soft flesh.

Nature craves meat.

Forests love decay.

 

A tree would sooner eat you,

than speak with you.

 

Or maybe, that’s the only way it would work,

tendrils of roots and fungus finding their way into

your fragile human branch work of veins and nerves.

 

Perhaps the language of flora is more savage than we imagine.

Maybe it can only be heard

In the crackling rub of growing shoots,

in the heavy sigh of a decomposing bird

and the creaking whine of hungry roots.

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Samantha Hund is a poet and writer who indulges in themes of nostalgia, grief, and non-human experiences. She is fascinated by the natural world, metaphysics, and the intangible. She lives in New York with her husband, Joe, and works as creative in the areas of film, animation, and storytelling. 

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