You make me into a tree.
With your sunrise eyes
and your cloudy breath
that blew you to me
and folds these leaves over, one by one.
I am bone-branches. I am these jointed twigs.
I am thickets lichened up and berried.
I have sat still so long for you
with roots tendrilling
the earthy ground.
All these places for you to climb.
All these hollows in my body for living in.
I hold myself to the sun
with my leaves in the gusty wind.