it’s the way our palms touched

and how ever since i can't
wash my hands enough

to get the taste of your
silence from the corners
of my fingernails

it’s the way the branches were
crooked and the bark was torn

but it held a rope the way the earth cradled your sister

–gently,
when the thunder shook her to the ground
and the branches

they trembled and swayed like your shoes,
only inches off the ground