How soon did you arrive
after this giant beech fell
and pulled down a hole
in the ceiling?
You scramble for light
on a rotting forest floor. From one hundred
meters you stretch tendrils to climb
into the canopy with your backward facing
thorns. Why do you exist lawyer
vine? What purpose? Look, my throat
is jagged sideways, your necklace of needle hooks
rip at my skin, but even as I step back and perform
a delicate pincer removal, you curl another
round my back and down my arm, grab my
pant leg. I bend down to pick you off
and again you are holding my hat.