all my softness

they handed us each a sapling 
& told us
to go find somewhere to plant.
spread roots--
a matrix of legs dangling.
i was so cold & we bought tea
from a triangle cut out
of the grey horizon. 
the sapling calling me
father & me telling the young
tree to go back to sleep--
to go sleep forever where 
it's quiet & you never need anything. 
we drank plastic cups 
of sweet Hi-C:
orange texture tributaries
leaking between teeth.
erosion of the tall mountains. 
cubes of sugar a drift in our blood--
a system of life rafts. 
i asked the sapling if
it had blood like me & it said 
it didn't. i peeled off
band aids to show the plant
what it was missing.
scars caramelize. 
scars like sea scallops stuck to the side
of a dock. 
the sapling was jealous
& i said skin was nothing to be jealous of--
it's only been trouble for me.
what would you want instead of blood?
i'd want pear nectar.
i'd want flies to pray to mouth.
when you were as small as a tree
what kind of dirt did you want?
i wanted chocolate.
the sapling wanted to know 
what it looked like so 
i walked in the cup
of my thimbles--
watching my stretched reflection
in the walls--
holding the sapling up & saying
yes this is you.
the tree wept as we all do
when we realize we have 
boundaries. we are only
so big. my faces contorts 
until it resembles
the face of any soft animal--
shell-less hermit crab, naked mole rat,
hairless cat.
yes those are me.
the sapling asks to be left
out to dry. i forgot
to mention it was supposed
to grow up to be an evergreen tree.
it was supposed to learn 
to smell wonderful. 
it was supposed to 
learn from other greens--
water cress, grass, tennis balls. 
i held it like a limp glove.
i told the sapling i understood
& as it lay on the porch 
it changed into a dead bird
& then a dead toad & then 
a dead hydrangea skull--
petals browning 
& blowing in the driveway.
i lay down next to it & said
i was sorry i wasn't more persuasive--
that i didn't beg the tree to stay.
it's ghost grows tall over me
in all my rooms 
& all my nights &
all my softness.
i pour tea out in the dirt
to keep the tree warm--
leaves sticky with 
scars of honey.