Arbutus

Poetry by Mathew Fu

Art by Keira Innes

Like a pair of inverted lungs, your bronchioles are searching for air.

The sky is vacant save for the budding moss on your branches:

all those arborescent alveoli—unearthed and breathing.

It is just the silhouette of your vasculature perforated on a dying day:

the chest X-ray came back metastatic.

Yet you are all but static—the buds bursting and bifurcating

down your trachea. All those dendritic dryads:

already innervated and urged inert. There are so many this wanting.

I am watching the daylight fade as your cancer exhales and collapses outwards:

an auburn affliction as a singular sigh; an aubade on auscultation.

There are so many this fleeting. But you are still the utterance

of all who have immortalized: the hunger in a breath gone agonal.

As if to beg: I want it.

Please, I want it all.