Poem 15 (make up from days ago)

Dream of the Carnal Tree #15

It wasn't the slow moan cum-cry 
of the budding out tree that brought 

me, branch-less myself, to lay 
my body next to the bark, bare 

naked in the glaring white light
so bright it could clean kill the flesh

unless you were dreaming. First,
I had to be moved to wanting,

each feathered floweret worked
their fleecy tongues over my torso

until the microscopic flora fondling 
was almost too much and I took

the largest bough inside of me
like I was born to this cleaving.