rainforest wife
Huon Valley, Tasmania


I never knew that the light here was painted water, mirror 

silver and so very gentle. Not the brittle glare of home. 

We are moss and mud and loam and tubers. We are just 

skin. In forest gloom and rain kiss, we are naked bright

we are slipping barefoot deep and the moss will grow over

we are cum and blood and rain and mucus. We are water.

I am yours no more than the forest is ours, yet I’m steeped 

in eucalyptus water and our blood from the leeches. And 

so I am your dryad. I am your dear muddy girl. Mired to you.