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, succulent reward, 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, delicious brine, unexpected, god-like, yes, divine.