TRUNK CALL
trees get caressed
the wind don’t give two hoots
about how
gnarled the trunk
venerable the branches
me, however,
not so lucky
had to donate
my sex manuals to charity
now the print
grown
so small
funny how it happens, how
time loses elasticity
my sprint becomes
an amble
becomes a crawl
but you
faithful breeze
finding blossoms around
my boughs could
not believe
I had
something under your
touch eager to
comply, act
in
concert
go reciprocal
be bathed and baptised
believe in
gospel of my resurrection
what you whispering here
poems 2 die for 