CALL ME BELOVED

A glance out the window, struck suddenly
by the realness of the tree leering outside –
picturing your bones deftly woven into the
tangles of branches, like cradling fingers,
rain falls, whispering windowsill promises
to let go, let go, trailing down the glass and
rivulets through the bark, fractal shadows
of long tree limbs cast onto the wall, dark
dancers celebrate letting go, letting go – but
all I’ve ever had is a jealous desperate grip;
I’ll rake raw rivulet claw marks before I go