On our backs, on the lawn of your old house
we stared up at the trees,
a hard wind moving through them
in a violent dialogue.
The smallest tree was fluttering
and we wondered what it might
to live with horses
and raw earth.
You and your quiet heart went blossoming
among the simple symmetry
When you brought the french girl with you to the country
I knew inside my bones that you could not belong
to me or
When you went to Rome, the Holy Ghost inhabited
the parts of you
that unanointed love
would never occupy again.
And I am here
in your backyard
with that small tree, still