lovespoon

you fell the echo tree.
axes & worms. 
the spoon, a little rib. the roots
still clenched in the ground.
what heads have you cut off? what hands?
as a lover, i want all the gifts. 
i want bones with our names
cut into them. i want a rocking horse
for our future ghosts to play with.
i want a lovespoon with a chain 
around its neck. who taught us
to want to keep each other
both like birds & like bulbs?
hold me not in the mouth
but in the woodwork. i want to be
shaped by your hands. breathe only
when you cut the heart, an eye
in the middle of the wood
for us to look at each other through.
i see a tiny snow globe place. a house
without gods. a knife. the one you used
to make me from. all the shavings.
the eyelids of the tree still blinking
away in the cellar. a gift
sometimes lives longer than the love.
not this one. the spoon is bound
for a tired museum. behind the glass.
a little placard that reads, "lovespoon,
they fell asleep on its tongue
until they both turned into stag & ran."