Under what boughs
Travis Truax


Under a hemlock         I think
it was we

made love        one night         or

maybe

a spruce           I swear
I’ll never          know trees

but

do I care          that much
or does it         matter 
           
under what boughs

we bent and braided   ourselves        
beneath?

Gorgeous black awnings cracked
with stars         that’s all

they were

and you           were in flesh
the feeling       of listening

to mountain water.