Awake

My back breaks, a few 

vertebrae from the bottom. 

Arms go knuckles fuse legs snap 

my blood is now sap. 

Limbs expand up and out 

leaves sprout from my  

fingertips dewy hilltop grass tickles  

my bark.

Groggy. 

Aching. 

Head clearing of death. 

I 

am awake 

and cold. 

I  

stretch toward  

the full moon. 

The roots

let me see more clearly 

than I did  

while alive.

---

Zachary Dein Reisch writes speculative fiction in Boston, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in AntipodeanSF, CommuterLit, and several publications on Medium.