Down in the clearing
they shed their clothes & gender.
Imperatives nest in the tree hollows
anti-colonial transgressive bush-pagan post-logic open-air
they somehow lost the suburbia that had trimmed
& polished hard-worked suppressions.
Up on the ridgeline
the sun squats unknowable
beats down upon six naked humans there’s
stars bacteria leafloss
plunder nesting death.
Six small humans have their call
amongst all the calls
down in that clearing.
The fire is lit
forest thanked
as though those fallen branches now aflame
are a conscious offering.
The ridge was its own project
over eons.
Two lovers join
dark & holy as the loam
rut upon this bed
of autumn leaves & ink-stained paper.
Feral cats come gather
engrossed in those cries
upon which humans build a marriage.
They are plucked up by the witnesses
& thrown into the firepit.
Sacrifice. Ecology.
