The knot took me outside, back to its rooted wood, with bark threads and moss and lichen. I climbed up its truck without ropes or spiked shoes and swung from its branches. I was all hair and ape with sticks in my fingers for boring bug holes. The knot lured me down from its canopy, onto wet dirt. I shed hair there, from my arms, then my legs, from my belly and breasts. Only the hair on my head remained, tangled in leaves and mud.