Graft
—The Cost of Belonging—
The branch they mean to save must first
be severed from its living tree;
its wound, still bright with climbing sap,
is bound against another’s bark.
***
The cut remains. The bindings hold.
No root it knew
lies underneath;
yet slowly, where the wound was made,
two strangers teach their
veins to meet.
***
And when the graft has taken green,
which tree shall call the branch
its own?
Below, the severed root grows on—
forgetting what it
gave away.
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