Bounden

 

I carry you inside my bones,
through lifetimes walking
avenues, vaulting from roof
to roof

                to the blackened earth where wet
                leafs wrap the small of my back
                telegraphing coolness of morning to my
                warm lungs resting against the living
                ground

                where

                I plant a rib beneath the belly of trees between roots,
                inside arteries enveloping the heart of hardwood maples
                nourishing branches feeding leafy hands crying colours of you
                in autumn onto sidewalks

I pose vertebrae inside barky skin of firs
in a northern shivering forest of leafless
phantom limb winter-fall, blanketed by snow
comforting inert creatures burrowed in silent
fields dressed in white, between layered
sheets of season’s cold tendrils

I carry you inside my bones below silent gaze
of clouds speaking the soliloquy of Love’s anatomy
in rain and snow, one word for every limb,
an exclamation point in place of missing ribs binding
the cage of my chest, a period catapulting the gaps
between my spine

I drag hand patterns on fog licking sunrise by tongue tip,
I disassemble fingers, dissect arteries to pour you out,
scattered into meridiem memory

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