whatever it may be
my little apple tree
I will carry it for you
with broken hands
but hands still
I don’t know how you found it
my dark blue echo voice
my call into the quiet
but you touched my throat
and pulled forth from it a swallow song
you’ve written poems on my skin
and for that
I’ll color you dusky violet
sing you baritone and rich
trace you delicate along your outline
and weep you into life
as best I can
for you, my sweet, for you
are all the bests of me
I’ll bring to you the tree we found
with blossoms hanging heavy
thick in air of pear-sweet honey
humming softly free
my faerie queen
for you.
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