Tuesday, October 04, 2005

tree story #60: Quercus Ilex Under the Rain


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

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