philodendron by christian favreau

i. love

it’s difficult it is blackbird, we’ll stay where it is safe for as long as we need

you said you wanted me emotional now i am nothing but emotion like something snapped my spinal cord and all the nerves recoiled after all that talk of feeling over thinking of being afraid to die now i’m afraid of everything and yeah, it took you leaving for me to be everything you needed me to be everything and i feel everything about it; is

pearls in her hair pulled out by the mockingbird, and left on the moon as it waxes; the necklace, unravelling like the dizziness of freedom.

as the world heartbreak becomes

it’s difficult.

ii. tree

there is dew

on each filament

a drop

casting light on

a drop

casting light on

dependence

bird of the dark, considering

the spider web

and the trust

that if one bead falls,

so does the web, for nothing

can exist without

the roots,

the ones i see and the ones i don’t

but hear and smell and understand,

netted, breathe,

blackbird, breathe,

for the lasting truth, breathe,

for the space left over

for love and attachment, breathe

and notice

what the web isn’t

anymore

and what brought it to now

and you.

christian favreau is a poet and activist living in Montréal (Tiohtiá:ke). His work has appeared in the Anti-Languorous Project, Vallum, and elsewhere. His forthcoming book of poetry with JackPine Press will be available in late 2020.