Upon Waking

And how in the morning,
with my body stretched like canvas
over the edge of your bed,
I wanted you to tear into me,
slowly unrolling that long endured tension
until we broke together

like two trees locked in embrace
one uprooted and leaning in woody paralysis
into the arms of the other,
which swayed open and holding, its back
arched to mirror the curvature of the Earth,
their tango growing through seasons, storms,
persistent pecking of the pileated.

Until we broke together
like the cracked breath of a frozen river as it
rises away from the ice,
wrapping dawn in evaporated kisses
making the day warm again.

Until small pieces
were the only thing left of us,
each fiber worn to the edge of sanity
where time and distance revealed
a clearer image:
our collage of roots
a deep forest of possibility.

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