All the trees are pointing
away from earth. Promise
or ultimatum?
I should
eat dirt and plant myself.
That’s what they call ‘centred’.
I should
hold the hard truth of it
heavy in my belly.
I saw you before
you opened your eyes.
I didn’t want to apologise
then, but since
I sometimes wonder if
I should.
Till today when you climb
the old cherry behind the house, breathe
pink and infinite solutions,
however small. You invite me up.
I look skyward through its old, old arms
as you promise me
I won’t fall.