tree story #60
Quercus Ilex
Under the Rain
Two pale hands
Two feet
into dry earth
This is where I began
if you insist that
I have a beginning
Who knows what made
me climb away from
el centro del mundo
(you see, I can speak
beyond green)
What moved me
towards that
which I couldn't see--
the roses
thick slabs of orange
with cream
Why didn't they
recognize me
like she did
My green imprint
on her hands
She made such a
big deal of it--my
being ever-green
beneath my branches
her words fell
I was something alive--
all her own--
without questions
she asked
sighs falling like
petals in summer
We talked to each other
in different languages
something was understood
something was embraced
we are green and
full of the light
we are a stone path
embroidered in
the sand
we are the
glass between
air and air
In our
Book of America
nothing was obscured
between us
She thought I was innocent
we were the space
between embraces
the space between
los minutos
we were
above, below, beside,
around and beneath
the rain
He told her she wastoo warm to be cold
Can we say now
that we had something
that afternoon
unremarked upon
unrecognized
unqualified
unremarkable
Some moments she
lost meaning,
searched only for
my fallen leaves
in the bark chips
If anyone could smile
like Guanajuato, it
would be her
Words between leaves
I was learning to speak
She was forgetting to run
Some things are just
there or they are not
like the rainbow
it did not learn to
be or grow into
being
and then
but wait
until
next
under
4/28/04
Rebecca Morrison
