Chocolate Cake and

Chai at dawn

Your lips, the whiskers of

Your mustache in my mouth and

The whiskers of your beard

On my skin.


It’s early spring and

Already you taste of sweat and dirt

All those long days

In the sugarbush.

Lately you’ve been coming home

With gallons and

I taste the sweet maple on your tongue.

I brush flecks of bark from your face and

Feel your gritty hands along my belly,

Giving the memory of smoothness to your skin and

Texture to mine.


In the morning, even the dog

Is tired–

12, 13, 14 mile days following you in the forest–

And we must rouse her three times before

She joins us in the kitchen and

We feed her

As we feed ourselves

In the morning light.