A boy's body

By Finnegan McBride

He who feeds the soil knows

not that I hold him so, between

my roots, a bulb of cradle

earth in mouth and eyes and all

Slush of soft and slush of leaves, birds

along my gnarled arms

If I were only stronger I

would hold him half as long

Ants and beetles walk along my

undercrest of gristle, grateful

in their way: to piddle in his ribcage

for a while, but

before he was manure, four

warm limbs did spout in kindred gyre:

trepid flowerbuds in summer

shimmer blaze and never end

In death no bud is left unopened

All the light gets in

---

Finnegan James McBride is a writer, musician, and student based in Vancouver, British Columbia. His love of writing started when he read the stories of Ray Bradbury as a child. You can find him on Instagram at @finneganjmcbride