your darkness and your might invisible
to me, my pale eyes sun shy, your body
at noon, under pitched roof these lines
of wood i measure, cut, re-stood you up

to feed an appetite for shade, i am
a miracle for trees; and what i build i must
maintain, stretching, pressing, inhaling
every season warping edges, exhale down

shelter; my daily coir, your angle slant
corporeality; my hollow here
and where to see you, if, once i’d grown
my fill of this inside, the outside known

by doorways, windows, the tunnels ants dig
out foundation for the sponge, this marrow
empty nest of the mud wasp, left dust
unsettled; your crevice, my cusp, bright-daggered

lapses; your love letters, my red rose
replies; a jepun tree grows over my grave
shaggy roots to the unscripted bone, home
to fallen flowers light on my unmet nature

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