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
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.