green ghosts

the green ghosts
that your eyes made
are haunting the treeline
of the pacific northwest.

their old bones in the branches,
blood red on the roots.
i climb the keyedge
of the cascades

on my way up
and out
and over
puget sound, staring down

mt. rainier: "can we finally hide right
and get this world away from us?"

i floor the gas pedals
of the lumber trucks,
speeding to turn
all of these evergreens

into clean sheets of paper,
finally writing this down:
i'll take my love to the grave.
i'll take my love to the grave.