I Could Sit Here - Poem

i could sit here

i could lean into my decomposition

i could grow roots here

sprout leaves, bare fruit.

i could be engulfed by the rainbows that leap from petals

i could become the bite of ants

sit here until my last inch of flesh was the pulse of a bug

sit until my hair is turned to dust

until my bones lie sun-bleached and brittle

until the hum of my exhale is the hum of a honey-drunk bee

until the fruit of my fertile flesh is in the stomach of a mother

is in the milk within her rich and sacred breast

is in the mouth of a cherished and buzzing infant

who looks upon his own seat with my same contented bliss

i could sit here until my death

and live a million lives.