In the corners
of our lives where all the lint,
loose threads, dog and cat hair
scrap metal, yarn, wood chips,
sawdust and dead skin gather-
we survive, even thrive.
We inhabit those angles
where it's easy to nestle,
hard to leave,
where rain might make a puddle
with mud or pretty oil
and where it is so
so messy...but we don't care.
We sit on top of it all,
or sleep in a tent (just to have room),
and we are hungry and thirsty
and dead with fear
but somehow still grow
in this stick forest of rotten trees
trash and refuse
ready to be restored
revived
rewritten.
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