Ode

to the smelly tuft of lint I found in your belly button
and every bit of forgotten life discovered in the dark places since.

I owe you one.

For every time there's been a branch
growing just so out of cliffs of sheer rock and shame.
You catch me
and hold on, as though your unstretched muscles have been itching
for a bit of abuse
and a smack
of responsibility.

And you hold on.
As though skinny wooden fibres were all it took
to keep light from drowning.
You saved me.

Put your lips on mine and heaved
as though I were a beach ball.
And this
was the perfect time
for a tournament.
And did I float.

Like a Titanic headed
for the Arctic
The crowd was astounded by simple engineering but you,
You knew that mankind is more than metal and smoke.
You knew that some decisions do revoke the right
not to hit an iceberg.

And sleep in a freezing ocean.

But man caught on
and now instead of navigating rough seas,
we melt them.

And instead of weaving between trees
we move them.
Like pieces of a puzzle fit
just so. Nothing
can grow
or change.

And where icebergs used to be
there's just rock
and shame.
Don't fall.
We moved the tree
that saved you.