A Re-Imagining of the Giving Tree

syrupy smoke congealing in the air
pooling sweet nothings
inspired from
my body
 body fingered, lit hot
 body tapped
 body shared
 body erect on grubby hands
 brought to indulgent mouths sapping lungfuls of promised poison

graphic by Alexander Wisowaty

when I sprouted hard buds in my soft flesh
I found mouths on me like the smear
of sloppy lip on tobacco leaf
when he rolls a blunt
too soft
dripping like
my hair in the bath
when he holds my breast for the first time
offering our bodies like come, Boy
swing from my branches and be happy
how I shivered like his lungs
when he slides the bowl
of me
these thin walls struggling to hold his smoke
how like amber,
petrified, bursting
from my lips how we made the house our audience
a tree branch strung from the ceiling like a chandelier
long arms
dead ends
dripping up the wooden staircase to the master bedroom overlooking the garden
where branches are still living
where the sun has just set
but the sky is still light like
the crowns of our heads
still dry
mussed and glowing in the live embers
And the Boy came
And the tree was happy.