I Have a Crush on Emily Brontë
I've heard how you were in the woods
under the crag
And now it makes sense
of my own sense-leaving
eruption and emergence
the flesh-tearing rapture
overcoming me
that only the trees can bear
in their season-long orgasm
hold me in massive limbs
took me in with a teething sob
the way into them I found
by absenting myself
driven like wind
to hear of you now
your eye cutting through the gossamer
of family who would surround you
awed and shamed by glimpsing
the cavortions in your poems
awed and shamed
by what they see but cannot do
lacking certain teeth
family who brought a trembling match
to a corner of your pages
after you'd gone,
but couldn't stretch that awful gulf
couldn't make that thing happen
for their love for you must necessarily
include this too
But there you are, there you were
and the trees that humbly reach for me
as I reach for them
glamouring in the soil breath
I emerge erupt and moan through
gripped teeth and the thrill of the mandible
Late last night I climbed the oak
I found your teeth marks
and added mine so that
it was a strange animal, they'll say
that took this limb
what pads soft towards me
how do I glow in those eyes?
