When We Became Trees by Mary Christine Kane
, Spring 2017, Volume 1, Issue 1
When We Became Trees
by Mary Christine Kane
We saw them first on our walk. Bodies, once apart
reached toward each other
until limbs wrapped, roots kissed two trunks twisted into one.
We took a picture
sat with them awhile.
Back at the cabin: my branches into your trunk your leaves into my mouth
You nestled into my hair
heard the rustle.
We swayed and reached and fell into earth, then past it
I said, We are trees now.
They said we were
We should never be apart.
Until the day them came with their axes. You will die anyway.
When our first leaves fell
I didn’t know yet we were dying Petrifying
until two phantom trees,
a graying picture.
I hear the trees now
out my window.
They will all die:
storm, disease, lack of water.
I forget this
every time I feel the rough bark against my still soft hand.