Gouged Out

Poem By Anthony Dalby

Now I am gouged out.
Silt slopped to the side
A ruin, safe only for owls.
Saplings reaching out from the harsh cracks
wreaked in my side.
The nightingale presses its chest against the
thorn until it splits and falls useless;
a feast for ants, for secret larvae.
As the rotten fruit falls to the ground
the seed is safe within.
An orchard of potential

Comments about Gouged Out

Hmmm nice imagery here, it tells me your feeling of a dying tree, hope i've seen it right.nicly written.
I appreciate the way your consciousness works-seeing, resulting in a telling, with significance embedded.


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