Deeper

Deeper 

To get to know her you must
dive
deep
beneath
her silky, oiled chocolate skin
and tumble
twist around her submerged
arteries of stone,
hide,
as gnashing mandibles of rooted rock
shred water into shrill white foam, then
up
from
high above
observe the river flex the quiet muscles of her power,
slowly
wish that she would
brush those rippled curves
against the bank of your imagination,
hold
her brimming substance
in your cup of words.

Tree frog

Tree frog

They sit tight in the lit hours,
all waking as the sun gives way
to moons and bats and whistling unseen things,

then shrill their mating calls into the fresh night wind,

and awkwardly manoeuver, foot by foot
through all the tangled undergarden,

eagerly cruising trees for prey
(what insect could escape the gaze of such a wondrous eye?).

Bright day returns, and down they hunch,  
a blob of wet amphibian-stuff clinging
to whichever branch seems right. 

Once one gripped my fingers just as though I was a tree,
with feet that flapped the cool deliciousness
of living jelly on my eager quivering skin, then leapt
ungraciously onto the leaf-leaden forest floor below,
sat tight.