We go together like loofah and linen—
compostable, antimicrobial—
soil cake in the gut house,
nice parasites with stylet quips,
sealing lips from disease.

Mutuals suggest we
left our dust to mingle— 
skin cells, hair shed—
without banter laughter balm,
and yogic twister lip calms.

Or maybe you’re the night sun 
and I’m the fun jungle,
mistaking fungal for lunar—
blue oysters, deep-fried—
hinting at single on the side.

Crushing on de-extinction,
we go together like thylacines and 
fat-tailed dunnarts, a daydream,
scheme-editing with funds and labs,
distracting from the crisis at hand.

Sweet tongues for invasives,
trachea bent from withdrawals—
not sharks, snakes, spiders—
my fear is succumbing
to an ocean and
the end of it all.

Brenna Cheyney is a writer, artist, and naturalist, interested in degrowth, biospheric egalitarianism, and biodynamic embodiment. Their work is based in the truth that humans are a part of nature, and in nature, inherent hierarchy is non-existent, there are no individuals, and queerness is innate. They are the author of Uninloveable: A Book of Faction Prosetry (The WOMEN group, 2016) and their writing has appeared in Complete Sentence, the Pussy Power House zine, and elsewhere. They are currently applying to MFA programs and writing a full-length collection of poetry. To learn more, please visit brennacheyney.com Instagram: @bcheyn, X (Twitter): @bcheyn