You think you have trapped me,
blue collar tying my neck
to a young tree. The weeds grow,

and I eat them, not the scraps
you leave behind. The tree grows,
and I nibble its bark that chafes

against the collar, against my neck.
I drink the rain dripping
off the leaves above me

while your river turns rancid
without my touch. The tree’s trunk
will thicken. The collar will fray,

and I will consume its threads.
Then I will find you, lost
in your grave, hidden

by weeds, by roots of trees.
I will dig up your body
and devour your bones.