I would take you to
the dark understory
below daylight green leaves
to the places of wet earth
and rotting branches
I have no scruples
and would sit at your feet
sharing your great boughs
with the light
I would wrap my arms around
and lay between your roots
be the pulse that feeds you
underneath-
I need to title, no age
no ring, no name
the humid darkness of beetles
the small movers of earth
I wait and stay ever present
throw down your vines
look down, love has no mercy
no title, no age
no ring, no name
it sits below your feet
I want to paint you
as my Abbot Thayer
ever rising above me
standing on my hands.

-By the Corbyhawk herself