Now I am gouged out. <br />Silt slopped to the side <br />A ruin, safe only for owls. <br />Saplings reaching out from the harsh cracks <br />wreaked in my side. <br />The nightingale presses its chest against the <br />thorn until it splits and falls useless; <br />a feast for ants, for secret larvae. <br />As the rotten fruit falls to the ground <br />the seed is safe within. <br />An orchard of potential<br /><br />Anthony Dalby<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gouged-out/
