Old Growth (Prose)

A droplet skims, knee to shin, the pristine captured in crystalline. The valley rumbles with the sin of decadence while goldenseal twines delicate feet in the shade of the canopy where I sleep. A flake slides the mountainside smooth white as thighs, and mosses spin rhizoids where I abide. The fissure where ancient glacial ice resides cooling stone in the summer sun, the warmth of decomposition and convection rise.


I slide a lady’s slipper on unbound feet and lick the sweet from the ripened trees, untrimmed topiary, brush and tuck, beneath the boughs of harvest’s weep.


Can you love me skin deep? Passion’s seeds thrust upon the wind that sweeps my locks and breaks bark in creak and moan. Do you own your nature or borrow from mine, time? You seek creases where fate leaks her promises between quartz and amethyst, pressure and treasure beneath my breasts which rise over the molten crevice as your life is rendered and surrendered.


© M.G. Iannucci 2019

Art: Unveiled by Jerry LoFaro

12 thoughts on “Old Growth (Prose)

      1. Ok well I clicked on something and it came up a Soundcloud. But nothing played. I don’t know what Soundcloud is but it looks like you have to sign in? Whatever it is, if you are speaking on it, I woukd live to hear. I also love it if music is there to accompany poetry or prose.

        Liked by 1 person

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