You Are My Orchard

You are my orchard
And I am the apple;

You are my court
And I am the gavel;

You are my fishnet,
Trapping my salmon

Pink, anadromous,
Under your trident.

You are my bread
With spread raspberry leavened;

You are my harp’s head
And I am the chords,

You: Calliope, Erato,
Terpsichore, and I am

A new murmillo, absorbed;
We dance and we pause

While wild a world billows,
Resist the red pillows

And red-fonted clause
In a river once thawed.

You are X upon X
And I am your ink,

We wake from our trance
And bleach their gold sinks.

One thought on “You Are My Orchard

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