I had a bruise on my shin for three weeks,
shaped like the
aerial view of
a long mountain
range.
The geographic formation on my skin was the result of a scrape
against a wooden drawer, a harsh confrontation between my skin and its corner.
The bruise sat as a pool of lava on my skin, a deep shade of purple, almost black. It took its time to cool.
As my blood broke down and died and became new again, lichen visited my leg, and igneous rock became moss became soil.
Not set for every type of plant, but fit for some.