Carve the words
Into the chest of that tree
Immutably growing
Thrusting forward
Into the blue stratosphere
Recyclable bark shed
Tossed askew
Wind wayward swept
To the buds of good taste
Sniffing out decay
Rooting out winter’s casting call
The roles you and I
Would both be well-suited to play
Garb us in richly lined costumes
As the soil washes aside to reveal the roots
Suckling on a mineral idea
Reflected in your eyes
Glint scheming with purposeful honesty
Despite itself
In your self-deluded reflection
Poised above a few bottles
Listening to what may fall from my lips
Mopped from the slippery floor beneath you
Where you may have felt the slide
Or you may have mistaken it
Just as easily.
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