Wednesday, January 10, 2007

From A Trembling Branch

Cupped hands under thirst.

I reach for You

from a trembling branch-

from an arched spine of prayers.

You have become the concealed sky

of a deep planting.

Everywhere there is succulence:

The interior mouth of silence and honey.

No one saw us disappear into each other.

No one saw spring-time

lift its green skirt up in anticipation

but we feel the damp thighs

of this want as it speaks

for our stunned hearts.