|Donna D. Vitucci||How the Tree Shakes|
How the tree shakes,
how it worries with wind,
washes its hair with sea salt
amid kicked-up tropical storm.
Shimmy the bark for coconut.
Sacrifice your inner thighs.
All will be well
once the broke-open milk is found,
when you find, like sunk treasure, your lover's center,
the gold doubloon of you
curling on my tongue.
I am both lover and the beloved.
And you, you reflect my reason,
risen from the sea,
unexpected, god-like, yes, divine.