The Tree Trunks Have Become Boa Constrictors
Mark Salow

If the rain hits the ground and sizzles
and then bursts into flames
It's you that I'll feel swimming
backstroking in my veins

If the combat rocks
and the jelly rolls
You'll be the sweet putty
seeping in - filling my holes

It doesn't matter if your sunflowers have attitude
or if the squirrels in your trees
don't speak Japanese

If my leaves become ascetic
and no longer want to drink and eat
My branches will still embrace you
from your hair down to your feet

If the silkworm won't eat from the mulberry bush
you could slide down its throat
and wind your softness into fibers
I'll spin you into a luxuriant coat

It doesn't matter if your cream curdles into rocks
I'll pour them on the ottoman
Still the seat will soothe me
With you as the cushions home