soothe me

where is my heart?
where is my heart?
it is in my teeth
being gnawed on
umbilical cord veins
knotted elegantly.

every Fall
these feelings stir,
leaves crunching with red-orange
crispness.

I learned today how to kill a tree;
you simply cut its life source
to the core
and eventually it dies.

I imagine it suffers
its wisdom lingering in the forest
before it falls
with a heavy thud
to break the silence.

the library is a forest of
books.
I climb their brittle pages
in search of a more
sentient world.

I put my thumb in my mouth
searching for infancy.
I don't remember ever sucking
my thumb before.
I was numb to comfort
even then.

When my heart races and my airways
constrict
I stab my thumb
and focus on the pain.
Maybe this is the same comfort
the baby feels,
the scolded child,

the neurotic
poet.