The Hollow Trees

You used to be so brutal and ablaze. Now, you are the charcoal I write with...

We will build a fire, with sticks, from tokens of
The young wood trunks of our grandparent's orchards.
Cousin-like infatuation to lit it up, burn, burn, ashes, ashes.
And hum, hum away the sacred matches.

We observed the boredom settling down on the laborers' brows,
Fractions of their antique architecture, being the company of quietness,
Hiding in fading uniforms from schooltime, and in the afternoon
Emulating lovers amongst the bed sheets of dust, laced by genealogy.

I hit your back against the wall, brick by brick smashed in your spine,
And I smiled at your luring cries. Captive chemistry in between our hearts.
Then I laid you on the earth patch, maculated your marred skin, because
You weren't human, and all was tacit then, the glorious pain coming down your dishonest clearness.

"Don't trust the clouds, my love, they never seem to settle." and good weather
Changes us. But we never changed. You saved bees from rain pools,
I smashed ants on glass. We weaved wonder athwart the absent verdant
Flowery scent and watching his conked out smile.
Cuckoo, cuckoo �" and he tick tackled me in his nest.

I wrote you, and once we met again we were naked angels on snow.
Later that night we washed the cough medicine down the sink,
Because we were enough to protect each other from the cold.
And your tongue grasping my vocal chords, your wet muteness,
"Speak, bespeak," under my trickster spells. Oh �" aging.

And we promised we would pull each other's white strands
When our muscles began to quit the life we forgot to nurture,
Our organs through atrophy would bounded stay, the surgical suturing
Of health, with hair threads, and the purest of needles. Babysit and take care of the cats.
And never part on sorrows, never invite distress �" because we are, we'll always be.

Canoeing on weekends, river streams, webs and branches, the
Hot air compressed inside our chests. Lively children, young, doomed.
Born sighing in February, in the unknown years, living in adopted skins.
We are indians, parents, poets, dreams �" licking sugar from our blue fingers
And enjoying our estranged sins.

Author's Note

All feedback is much appreciated, always. ♥

Reviews

[A. Amos]

I love your writing style and everything you wrote, simply amazing and beautiful will wait for more

[Mia Deuser]

Thank you so very much! I really appreciate that you think so and cared enough to comment, it has made my night, and I assure you more is coming quite soon. (:

[A. Amos]

you're most welcome my friend