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The Kissing Tree
The first time we kissed
We kissed in the tree
In a field of the almost city,
Yellow razored grass become a park,
Cardboard trees to the lake,
Stone walls, iron eyelash lids.
That noon I asked the caterpillar what next to do,
Limbs not my own
Not all bower
Between myself and zero,
Your tongue painting two caves,
Crimson dripped and lethal to all underpants.
Walking to the music school
I tangled with a hot damp fish,
Your hand, oily and evasive:
Flapping silver loose on the planks of a wooden rocking boat ...
Without a fishing knife in your eye
You slithered into the lake,
Married into law,
Begat four jelly tot, tots,
Masticating years
Before worms pierce your iris
On their way to China.
Now only this tree remains,
Baubled with clustered caterpillars
Fit only for boiled water:
Yellow blood
On green grass knives.
A jet pricks the sky.
Before blood boils,
We return,
Lest our banana skins make us
Unable to slip to earth.
Next time in a tree,
Stay kissing.
Only call me down
For dinner, or for tea.
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