cased in age-dried cracks,
a droughted scape of spreading
riverbeds, carved clumsy;
edges curled like cupping palms.
Leaves from too-tired limbs left to fall,
dropping rain-heavy to bind
with mud their rotting faces
to wander-cracking soles.
A naked canopy scratching sky
higher than the crane of reaching
necks; branch-arms shadow-
stretching, throwing slant-slip
shade, cold across squint-shielded knots.
Breeze-tapping twigs carry-catch
the sighing scent of some distantly browning
lilacs. I’d stand close, tracing bark-breaks, almost asking
Can I call this body mine?
Benjamin Wright will be graduating from Brigham Young University in April 2021 with a BS in Exercise & Wellness, and a Creative Writing minor. He is in the process of applying to MFA programs around the United States to continue his studies of poetry.