A lemon tree grew here
all in one night
in the dark
after I left the room.
I turned out the light, went upstairs
to close my eyes.
A bitter seed dropped out of my mouth.
I was swallowed by sorrow. But your tears
drew me into an open space
and showed me where new
light and breath and body can be.)
Sudden stars burned overhead.
(Although I did not see them
they found and fed me on their silver fire.
Sent shimmers down through the roof, the ceiling.)
Roots and leaves sprouted with the in – season beat of my heart.
Buds flowered just before dawn: I could taste the inside of the green world.
The eating of starlight is a different kind of feeding.
A different kind of growing kindles a sweet – flesh lemon tree.
