When she remembers young love, it’s entwined with country roots.
It took years and dirt roads apart and finding him again to reclaim their roots.
She memorized the shapes of his scars on howling-coyote nights.
He once engraved his initials into her bark and bloodied her roots.
They worried about cleaving open the past, revealing the dark things buried there.
But together like two gravediggers, they unearthed each other’s roots.
Sometimes he branded other things on his body when she wasn’t there.
His destruction became her own, worming inside and gnarling their roots.
When he left, she buried the necklace he made for her under a tree,
A metallic heart, once luminous, now rusting, crushed by the roots.