by Olive McCoy
In my dreams,
I choke
On a tree that sprouts in my lungs
I feel its treacherous vines in my veins
Peaches swell behind my eyes
I am tethered to the earth by its unrelenting
roots
I die, breathless on the growth
I am quieted and crucified on the branches
When I wake I look back and ponder the leaves
that clouded my brain
The sap that coated me
and wonder
What am I romanticising now?