yet another poem, this time with a title

[pygmywombat]

Marks

You've taken me raw
to the redwood road
where the red flame trunks condensed by centuries
shed their feathers to pad our steps
(for we will always be so young
to have a child mind of trees)
and, as we breathe in the glowing-grade
sunset that pulls down the path,
fashion a dark blushing bark just inside my chest
impermeable
ready for fire.