a cold, wet seat on a winter deck without a tarp
I shiver and dream of sinking into a strange sofa
while cards are on the table in a game of waiting
the taste of garlic and cold through the veins
gentle whirr-whirr whirr-whirr whirr-whirr
behind my eyes crawls a different memory
An old tree on the road to your house
grows around some sign, its
letters worn down by time
and long-faded. I remember
how I felt when I read
that you were undecided
about me, heavy and hollow as
the tree was pulped for paper,
sign ripped out unceremoniously,
the me sent for recycling. I
breathed in metered doses
and kept my fingers buried
in the dirt. Separate the bulb,
unbound the root; loosen
so it can grow stronger
and host a sign of its own.
Today, your hands were
tilling beside mine.
I say it as simple as water runs
trickling up through my larynx
and popping from my mouth
soft and languid like secrets do
babbling brook declarations
I weaken myself to free
Azure cloudless skies stare back
and I know a tree can't be undecided
roots wrapping around in
one hundred days of growth
not bound to strangle
but tentative reaching
You say it as quiet as rain falls
no meter to the words
but instead actions, like thunder,
ricochet through the halls
bounding full and echoing
I don't need to hear it to see
