The Tall Trees

Under a stationary sky

Constance dances,
earthen in dark glasses
and false nose she gravitates

and cultivates steadiness, holding
out to climaxes that
refuse admittance

in dark glances and false
notes, hands slammed
to the ground

Under a mushroom canopy

in the dream ballet, where
madrigals gather, change
chants nightly

where the tall trees
with rainladen leaves
bust out

in blue crepe, spill
worms, hail
eros, hail ion

And did it storm

and dampen loam
as we unbuttoned sheets of
ether, caressed, and slept.