cherry-tree buck 

i didn't feel the entry
point-- not at first--
yelp of your gun--
echo-- flush of
birds in all different
directions--
drop feathers like
snow-- trees raising their
arms in prayer--
oh spare me god 
of gunfire--
the forest
smoked around me
with the eagerness
of your trigger--
you replaced your
bullets with 
cherry pits &
called it love--
taught me to tie
knots
in the stems--
barrel pointed 
at my thought--
a joke about how
easy it is to find
ammunition & how 
even innocent cherries
could betray me--
stain my fingers--
is this blood or
juice? you
were the one
who told me to wear
white-- smudge 
soil-- my antlers 
caught again in the 
tree limbs--
snagging comets--
singed on stars--
somewhere in california
the whole world
is burning-- it's
only a matter of
time before it 
gets here & there
will be nothing
a little boy with a gun
can do but shoot
the deer's skull
full of cherry pits--
sprout from
my forehead-- roots
digging
down deep through 
my shoulders--
have you ever
bore the weight
of a planet?
have you ever 
held the body of
a tree? drop
your leaves for
me-- this is january 
& we are supposed
to be kindling
& here i am--
your cherry tree
buck-- trunk bursting
from my bones--
too heavy for me to
move-- the forest
floor will treat me
better than any
hunter & his son--
voles & squirrels
come out of curiosity--
scurry across
my chest-- check
to see if i am
in fact still alive--
they can tell i'm not
but they're eager 
for the tree to bear
fruit-- they congregate
in worship for
roots & the hunter's
creativity 
to use cherry pits 
for gun fire--
another prophetic 
man-- the spot
where the tree 
grew feels vaguely
like the course
hand the priest
making a sign
of the cross in
oil our holy water--
it haunts me alone--
like god is teasing
me one last time
with his phantom thumb--
come march i ache 
for water &
eventually i give 
in &  pray  for rain--
& it comes--
metallic tasting--
trunk too massive
for me to move--
you came back-- 
umbrella & green jacket--
gun slung over your
shoulder-- searching
my branches for 
fruit-- 
fondling leaves
till you found cherries
to fill your pockets--
it wasn't enough
was it? 
are we ever enough
for each other?
tell me though,
do they taste 
as metallic as 
the rain?