For Matt Rader

You said that you could let me in
on the lives of North American trees.
Rustling leaves,
we page through forests together
silently.
You read aloud to me and your voice
echoes
through the Big Leaf Maples and
Red Alders and
Arbutus.
I dream of structure.
Your strength
lumbering
into me,
impregnating me
with its stiffness.
My stomach grows big with
words;
my breasts pendulous with milky
prose.

In the beginning...

Heartstrung
tragic history
whispery
magnets pull and push
full of will
and strength of irony
will not budge.
will not.
will bend and quaver
mend broken wefts
and savour time spent drifting
swept away but not
bereft