The Tree Trunks Have Become Boa Constrictors | |
| Mark Salow | |
If the rain hits the ground and sizzles and then bursts into flames It's you that I'll feel swimming backstroking in my veins If the combat rocks and the jelly rolls You'll be the sweet putty seeping in - filling my holes It doesn't matter if your sunflowers have attitude or if the squirrels in your trees don't speak Japanese If my leaves become ascetic and no longer want to drink and eat My branches will still embrace you from your hair down to your feet If the silkworm won't eat from the mulberry bush you could slide down its throat and wind your softness into fibers I'll spin you into a luxuriant coat It doesn't matter if your cream curdles into rocks I'll pour them on the ottoman Still the seat will soothe me With you as the cushions |
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