My name is written on a bare
scratch in the ground. And it is there
I shed this husked identity
of slithering symbols – under trees
that form time-solid. Declare

me dead. Intone a tomb. Prepare
to chant my name in air
where it may wither silently.
My name is written

by lifeless hands. The words now tear
their essence from the earth and share
the brutal strength and savagery
of Nature. I died. And the me
that once was weak is buried where
my name is written.