I want to hide in the places between things,
to squash myself softly into the folds of the forest,
feel its hard surety spoon around my body.
I want to lose myself
in nooks that nobody knows of –
places that only know of themselves.
I want to slip between the ripples of the river,
hug the shadow of a stone,
burrow beneath the armoured skin of a sycamore
and circle my arms around its ancient backbone.
I want to be among sure-things,
to be held firmly,
to fit precisely.