A drowsy numbness pains My sense,
as though of hemlock I had drunk.
A wild cherry sapling bends
toward the light, hard to come by
beneath the hemlocks, poisoners
of the soil in which they grow in-
hospitable to others implanted
below their canopy, who only bend
deeper and out from under, hungry
as they are for light. Rooting
for nutrients they don’t give up;
they thrive and survive by desire.