thorns

pale and too weak to move
 cough your guts over
 edge of your bed
 in faint light from the door
 two trees
 walk towards you

 one black, the other white

 black tree becomes a pair of eyes
 you inhale smoke drifting up from a fire
 sharp fruit fragrance
 spiky, dark, sinewy, stiff bark,
 oval leaves with a serrated margin

 move
 quickly over your body
 touches points here and there,
 painful thorns nick out bubbles
 of your blood
 it mutters strange
 under its breath
 with a low, crackling voice.
 The night grows old,
 dawn approaches
 dissolves into

 the white tree
 with long bright hair,
 lays a cool gentle hand on your brow,
 mutters with a sweet bell-like voice
 your sight sharpens
 until the white tree,
 becomes a woman,
 your pain eases.  She sweeps
 brown-grey, knotted
 and fissured skin,
 slender and brown limbs
 covered in thorns
 that do not hurt
 up and down
 your body, touches same places
 as the black tree
 pain vanishes
 refreshed
 into easy, restful sleep

via WordPress for Phone app.

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