tenderness

i can't go another moment
curled under the soil
come, Sun, let us burn each other

the salted morning hurls your blackest dawn
into craters from my roots to the feather
of life stretching upward, a millimeter at a time

something sacred happens there, as the
garden lazes on in bloodthirsty
tenderness
as it always, always has

now all is beginning, and the green is
wet with tremulous foresight
but do not worry, Sun

you will have me in the end.