I told her that they were aspen trees.
I told her that they were aspen trees.
When I really wanted to say:
“They’re connected at the roots.
Sometimes you’ll get whole forests
that way. One can get sick and infect
the whole grove. Martyrdom
has always been my love language;
passion my favorite death sentence.
I’d pick your blight everytime,
If you’d pick me from a crowd.
I want to love you in all the ways
I know how: gracelessly, like a match
falling to the forest floor. Just for you.
Even if you’re not listening,
even if you look and only see trees.”