Roots & Tendrils

I woke, shaking,

the base of my spine reaching for the ground

crawling below my bed

through floorboards and framework

to the depths of dirt

to the crawl space that lies

with open arms below

I begged to be received

for my tender roots to find

the softness of your soil

to soak in the decomposition of what promises to nourish

I found tendrils twisting and turning

dancing through grit and grime

tangled in knots that

creep and crawl