I think about the way the magnolia roots move through the soil,
Fire and water, into soil and ash.
Bending between the air and the earth
I imagine him bending over the lavender,
Grasping furls of grass, ginger and gentle.
The air is heavy and cool; moonlight over paved stone.
Melted Murray Mints, within a hollow room in the dappled early summer,
I wish, I wish-
And I return to the soil and the magnolia tree.
Embodied within stolen ash and embers,
Fire and water into soil and ash.