in my home under the earth, i am free to stretch out,
lithe and lean against the weight of magnetic dirt.
above ground i am ponderous, lecherous,
willingly glowing with imbibed sunshine and oxygen while
my thin skin aches for the coolness and the comforting closeness
of home. underground, coherent and covered,
i manage articulation: i structure, and analyze, and rectify.
i am entirely carbon, solidly sedimentary,
and the erogeny of erosion is no match for my layers.
though the flow of your words slides around my body,
trickling in at the edges of my consciousness
and sidling in between my fingers and my lips,
a gentle kiss sluicing along the lengths of my legs,
i am not borne away: i am grounded, resistant,
and i am not ashamed of my deep, deep roots.