Beneath the Tree

©Stacie Sandall

Mold and mildew
will stretch, my sweet,
while tulips burrow
beneath the peat.

Birds will perch
upon your head
and rob you of sleep
of your earthen bed.

Fingers raw
from nails of rust,
pain dissolves
as putrid dust.

As creeping roots
ensnare your wrists,
the soil will cake
inside your fists.

The shadows cast
by breaking dawn
will fade to black
when you have gone.