Grant Moore
Under the holly tree
bough of berries,
its siren red
temptation.
Where life began
on skinny knees
retching out
my guts.
Waxy saw-tooth skin,
prickly leaves,
the sickly buds
of poison seeds.
The tangy tongue
of Christmas
funerary rites.
I spewed
through chrysalis,
entrails slick
with acid grease,
thickly dripping
afterbirth.
Gazed upon by
ageless tree,
received in holy
communion, my first
memory:
The pluming rack
of tight blue
veins
that hung about
my neck.
The womb of black
that forked
the branching
Earth.
The world that hid
in bitter leaves
and pushed me
into it.
I made a wreath
of holly limbs
to prick my head
with thoughts.
I keep its berries
bright as death
and touch the skin
that baptized
me.
Grant Moore holds a Master of Science in Mathematics from Towson University and a Bachelor of Science in Physics from Frostburg State University. After several years teaching mathematics at the university level, he transitioned to a career in technology, where he currently works as a Senior Site Reliability Engineer. His poetry explores the intersections of memory, nature, and the systems—both formal and emotional—that structure our lives. He lives in Cumberland, Maryland.
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