BETRAYAL

BETRAYAL

 
All the sorrel stalks I sucked on    
revealed nothing.
 
Words piled up behind my back
until they turned into a green hill.
Phloem coursed through the trunks;
lupine seeds plotted blue
in the dark soil.
 
Even if there is no singular form for grass
and only the plural makes it green,
I could not have known.
 
Birnam Wood began to move,
afterwards thought darkened
with all that lay behind the trees.
 

BETRAYAL