Undergrowth

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Undergrowth

coltish uprooted scrawny sapling

at the middle school dance. new kid.

wearing wrong wrinkled shirt. hair is weird.

wide-eyed quiet among the limbs.

bark thickens. branches bulk.

weathered winds and children’s hands.

clenched fists rooting outwards

grasping ground.

ropy arms to catch your feet.

These trees we planted one by one

when they were young and shy

are a kind of social butterfly.

They reach for each other and

they don’t let go.

We are not solitary creatures.

Our limbs tangle underground

forever shaking hands, forever in the bedsheets

skin-to-skin for indefinite minutes

while our shy crowns gaze into the sky

and feign solitude.

-jlb