Dirty tree
You need the dirty tree,
the beetles
and amber is the dog
thirsty for viscera,
curses the bark,
the vomited leaf litter.
Towards the center is the resistance,
the flesh prostituted in ebony,
endless speech
among onyx ants
dry in oil,
the night ascends,
naked to the liquid snake.
You bite the moonless skin,
rusty scorpions
dead in the storm
devour the roots.