Eating Roots

by Jeff Oaks

If there is a darkness. If there has already been

a mouth, many mouths, depths reached down into.

Among the small exploratory hairs in the darkness.

Among the quiet whispering of desires sliding against one another

in the earth. In the darkness. Something pulled free.

Something good. 

Something unafraid of not being a flower. 

Other. Sweetened by roasting, by fire.

(October 1, 2016)