If Trees Could Swear

Everything I do for you is use cut my knobs detach
every limb and vomit. My parts and glue form solid
slabs of I do not want to be part of you I want
to be within you. If you will not be
straight I will make you straight in paved
confines. Steamed and bent dried
dead displayed and burnt. Migrated foliage inspires
black contagions among berried cousins. It spreads
easily when you're always touching. I am meant
to breathe and bend your laminate inertia forbids. Insert
by drill and hammer crackle crackle pop your stares
predestine ash. I am a billion
cells my brain beats photosynthesis. I stare
at you through wooden eyes and hope but don't believe.