my inverse the tree
dresses for a different
more delectable sun
its gender is dioecious
its sexual partners are six-
legged and winged
its holes hold birds’ eggs for the snake
smooth and warm as coins
disappearing into
that snakeskin purse
what can it have to teach
it stays naked all winter
superficiality proliferates
blank and green
the light transfigured
into moving shadows
and thinner than a wire-worm
the first filament of rot creeps in