for a clear natural sky (someone i used to know)

why we kill ourselves
essence of blood bleeds
into the roots
of flowers, trees

following spring--
the birth of the mandrake,
blood root, bleeding heart,
poison ivies wrapping around the oak,

the pine, the aspen--
we are all
in the horror
of this together

not going to button this
sweater any tighter;
sometimes we need
to strip the birch bark,

and let it rip
into a million threads
no despair,
until you forgot to care

the rain washes
the bubbles of blood--
yet the stains
of your narcissism

silence my voice,
push me to do
umbrella steps
in reverse

still, no way
to eradicate
the abuse you are
hardly aware of--

as you continue
to build
your empire
into the plastic blue sky

words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '15