Augusta, Georgia 1939

I hear her soft
indulgent, familial pines
fostering distant space
between her temperate limbs
and my loose voice

Her raised neck
waits for me
to leave
to hush under her shade
recalling the swollen lake
where our bodies met
like two limbs in Georgia
of two different shades
faded needles
penetrating the bark
of my gasp and in my grip

She approaches
disrobes me
and offers me
to the choir of her soft
indulgent, familial pines