pull them apart
tap tap on the glass
each wire transposed
roots rotted en masse
part hair of deep bark
wash circuits of green
fold feathers of dark
coil anger’s machine
strip away filaments
each thread except one
bang fists like drums
the canopy undone
she fuses her vines
releasing boiled sap
transplanting old lines
her body’s new map
no harness, no retreat
she sows seeds in stride
blooming with old heat
caping wilderness inside
*37/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
Bridgette Tales 
I like the thoughtful composition.
The poem begins with a vivid imagery of the chattering of a telegram equipment. It seems to seek to uproot technology, a metaphor for humanity’s web of connections, and replace it with the hidden network of roots, vines, memory, and wilderness.
I like the note of promise towards the end, that the pure instincts can still endure beneath it all.
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Love the seamless rhyming. So good. Great poem.
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So good Bridgette!
Especially love the last line.
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Wonderful, your words echo the scene in the photo of what are Panel-tennas for cell phones.
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I read technology’s evolution as vegetative growth… Or something like that. I like the structure.
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