I would carve our names
together in the bark
of the old silver maple
if I wasn’t so sensitive
to trees
and how they feel
about being cut up.
Funny how I don’t mind
slicing up a turkey,
a chicken, a cow,
or rubbing scales
off a fish
while it looks
intently back at me.
1 comments:
i know i ought to have a guilty feeling but i don't, it's like i make it up as i go along, drunk with the spirit of insomnia, a magical balance of fluidity and rubber booted seediness.
this entire house is spotless and it seems every three minutes my hostess asks: would you like a cup of cocoa?
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