Planting

you and me, we’re organic things
between us we make organic things

between us is something that is
not a seed, but exactly like one,

something with long-buried roots,
something not moving,

but growing. slower than sight,
growing and spreading,

white skins in the underside
of dirt, offshoots, intrigues

of underground living.
my eyes touch the ground

and rise back up to meet your own.
there is nothing for it, the quiet hum

of bees, the painful silence
burgeoning between us.