blossoms before roots

You stood me in white blossomed arms
of a crabapple tree, and then your

arms were branches, fingers supple twigs
singing against the wind of me. Flowers

bloomed from budded tongues
became our kiss and then we sprayed

a golden pollen through the air,
a prayer to coming fruit. I swear your sap

runs through my trunk and sends
me up but whispers root, take root


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