When a tree dies, pink nipples bow their heads
as a sign of mourning.
When a tree dies, it grows dark, for all eyes hide their shame
behind eyelash curtains.
When a tree dies, I console my lover's pain
with medicinal lips.
I bandage their body with fingers and hands.
When a tree dies, someone takes my head between their palms
in silence and falls asleep.
While somewhere beyond the window, my tree is dying.