Tentacular Regeneration

I do not need to tell them to breath
(they know)
(it is them bringing me back home)
and still, we lift pipes cast upon them
forged in possession, time pumping faster
I look to clenching hands to ask,
can you feel
scarcity breeding scarcity?

I turn to them again
the mender
stitching themselves into decay
seeding circles

and I too, stitch my fingers in
lifting out despair, rooted invasion
pulling nets from homes choked
hurtling towards collapse
this tending takes its time
as you cannot rush the seasons

and with their room to rest
I can feel it too
our bodies bound together
wrapped in the echoes of our future
endless spools of connection
our many ways, woven into maps