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By Sonja Johanson From Issue No. 2

slip under the soil
pale knobby root thing
crooked rhizome sealed with scars

nothing to anyone else

be buried
be somewhere shaded

quiet empty place damp
liminal place for weeds
creeping out the woods

only another shoot
in the burgeoning world

break the shell of the earth
green egg tooth pierce the day

rise and unwrap

deep ribs
alternating leaf
parallel veins

hanging white
the odor of memory

About Sonja Johanson More From Issue No. 2