I often think of the forest of us
as a mangrove
with roots knotting around each other,
curled stilts on silt–
we stand on earth and water,
arms spread to the sky
as starfish galaxies are born on our toes
and birds roost in the tangle of our fingers.
You see
the forest of us survives,
shapes shields of shared solitude in which
we are never alone.
