My Branches

i was a guest in your succulent realm:
 a ship lost at sea, and i at the helm
 your rivers ran deep, through the grooves in your skin
 and i rowed through them all in a small plastic bin
 through rapids and white waterfalls
 i rowed through them all, i rowed through them all
 i'm too scared to touch in your fragile museum:
 all these treasures on display, it ain't enough just to see them
 i wandered through your branches and pines
 left only footprints, but took what was mine
 through cedar and white alder trees
 all tangled in leaves, all tangled in leaves
 i climbed your geography
 to find what made you
 and what made me
 i held you close to my skin
 so that we might lose track
 of where we begin
 i felt like a child at play in the grass:
 curious hands picking up, and then putting back
 the whole world ached to reach back for me
 but i hid from its fingers in the trunk of your tree
 through windstorms and white splintered wood
 you'll shelter me good, please shelter me good
 i climbed your geography
 to find what made you
 and what made me
 i held you close to my skin
 so that we might lose track
 of where we begin
 but why don't you ever explore
 my branches, my rivers,
 my forests, my shores?
 you never left a footprint or mark
 save a set of initials
 you carved in the bark