Nemophilist
KRISTEN VALENSKI

Temples, Cathedral arches entwining branches together bent upwards, 
A bow is raised; a hand is clasped together, kneeling beneath silent oaks, 
Resting their contrite knees upon a bed of moss, littered decaying leaves. 

My religion is amongst bark 
Conifers, spruce, 
Black poplars, 
Ash, beech, holly, 
Conundrums layered beneath thick sap, 
Tucked between chips of wooden tissue. 

Repentance is never found wrapped along a holly branch, or wound 
Like a chord of prayer beads along a wrist, 
It shivers over shaking limbs, 
Dribbles over newborn’s lips, drowning 
you slowly. The rainwater washes over you, 
sprinkles through 
the trees clasped fingers, 
Like a shaking aspen, 
aspergillium 
A baptism 
Among trees.