SK Carter

  • Juniperus arizonica*

    In the still hours of morning,
    you window drift back to a junipured childhood,

    barefooted, knee scraped and alive
    with all the miracles of weeds.

    Beneath boughs that embrace, you bake mud
    between your toes, brew flaking bark with spittle

    and too ripe fruit, lungs drinking in its peppered fragrance,
    a heady ritual of becoming earth. Even then

    you secreted away this longing in the hollow space
    between weathered roots and ribs

    like trinkets nestled in jam jars: a rabbit’s jaw,
    an owl pellet, half a quail’s egg, an inclination

    to strip back the bone of the thing. Even then
    your body like the hills beyond defied adult taxonomies.

    This a sleeping giant, that an appaloosa, dappled pine
    and basalt. There a woman enchanting another

    and here your chest a glimmering sand bank, stripped bare
    in monsoon floods, shoulders dirt-freckled boulders

    where snakes shed their skin, wiry fingers
    always trained on horizoned wilderness and stained

    berry-purple like that far off, beckoning ridge
    and its knowing god of queer desires.

    A Tree Remembers Themself a Nymph

    before I became the crack
    in a trunk, bark dry

    as winter lips, when I
    was a roving eye

    and men like so many saplings
    snapped under my gaze

    I found my fingers knuckle-deep
    in soft flesh

    of blackberries
    tongue stained and sticky

    her seeds between my teeth
    I had thought to save

    for planting
    in hedgerows of sloe

    her thorns impressed
    crowns on my flesh

    she bent my head back
    to the water

    hair trailing like willow
    in the stream and I trembled

    but in the crevice of seasons
    I began to quarry bitterness

    mine webs of regret like rot
    between bark and bone

    a bat under moonlight must find
    its way by feeling absence

    and I must ghost with the leaves:
    part desire, part decay

    *Juniperus arizonica – or the Arizona Juniper – was previously categorised as a variety of Juniperus coahuilensis. With the help of nrDNA data sequencing this taxonomy was reconsidered, and in 2006 Robert P. Adams identified the junipers native to the southeast Sonora desert as unique.


SK Carter is a researcher-turned-gardener. They hold a PhD in English and now work in urban green spaces, helping local communities cultivate more radical and resilient futures through horticulture and heritage crafts. Originally from the Southwest United States, their writing often blends the landscapes of their childhood with those of North Yorkshire, England —where they’ve made their home — as a way of thinking about queer temporality, trans embodiments, and memory. You can find out more about their work by following them online (@s.kay.carter).