Monday, June 27, 2011

Silviculture

Muck spectacular!
In the ankle-lisping scrub-shrub
I test the delicious
trees. How long

will they clamor to embower
me? The rain
equivocates, wanting to rise
as steam before it falls as water

& extracts my promise
to be hotter after.
I promise to be hotter after.
I gather the willow's weepings

in my sleevelessness &
discipline myself to believe
in a destiny they sketch. In
this first dalliance

with the capacity to leaf, my waist
plays celibate. Into
the piney windowmaker's warning
that lust domesticates,

I infuse my haze-day
dream: This rain is a home.
That lake is a room.
The minnows are windows

in my every wall. I swoon.
How will I ever set fire
to the woods
if it continues to be as wet

as this? Winsome
duplicity! Around the twitchy center
the willow branches
steer & swat me.

-Cecily Parks