Sunlight be our master
water bog hop to us
dead cold soil is no
problem for tuft tops.
We re-spawn at each
beheading, power up
telekinesis, teleportation
is fine, any pixelation
of green works wonders.
Camouflage, subterfuge
a usurpation of cement
the stagger sway in cracks
splits, fissures in redgum
sleepers or wherever there
is moisture warm enough.
Split ends under secateurs
we will bleed white loco
juice that sucks on skin
leaving red areoles.
We star ankles, nibble
a pricking constellation
leaving a bloodlust
in those human eyes.
Die once, live twice
our zombie-mouthed mass
spine sprogs, rebirths up
a pipe. We will sting
passers-by, open wide
shut on sighting, only to
open our acidic yawn
again to the power of two.

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