The hard
stump wreathed
in ears of fungus soft
as vulvas whose

stillness dissolved
me, sucked rustling
jet stream
down, drank  

up the black
chorus of space—
their layered gypsum
lei flesh

on the tree's cleft
and withered
neck. Fungus
roots, too

from my scalp—
so many prayers
of improbable
listening.

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