YOU SPOKE WITH THE TREES ALL NIGHT
I spent the whole night speaking with the trees.
I spoke one word and they drew back, shaking their branches, frightened in the nocturnal wind.
I said another word and they fled further still, like a moon escaping another moon, or like the shadow rising in the forest and leaping to another, vaster shadow.
But what did you say to the trees?
Did you tell stories of blind velvet?
Did you ignite their hearts with carbon in a mortal sign?
Did you speak to them in your sleep?
Did your unfastened tongue follow them, flying, from your dreams?
I don’t know.
I simply spoke with the trees and they feared my words: as if they guarded something that they can’t contain: the other side of what it is we say:
an impossible shout
of rage
of punishment
of love.