The birch grove unsettles me
Walking through the breast of a chickadee
Buried deep, maybe even in flight?
Each plume of white
Feathered bark bursting seams
I’m lost in a down pillow, a snow scene
In August
These uncanny birches seem
To blister from within, obscene
Begotten by fire, not made
A baptism by Hades
The stems spliced not sutured
They need flame to be nurtured
Pain to be born
The rain follows softly
Bourbon limbs bend coddle me
One deep, boozy inhale
And I’m standing off trail
Drunk and in love with a tree
A forest disco ball reflecting me
Back to me back to me me me
This queer forest betrays
Sense my mom told me to obey
I see the birch grove in his lips
Parting, swaying like bourbon limbs
I press my mouth to his
Tell him this
Is what I want
The birch grove soothes me
Walking through the breast of a chickadee
Dancing, my smile widening
Each touch gliding
Horny hands tugging seams
I’m held soft as a down pillow, a sweet dream
Waking up in his bed