The bunny soft glow falls languid,seeping into the fibers I so tenderly drapedover the prostrate length of you. You barely stir. Your breath is a steady tide so I follow your cadence with my own, our moons swinging, skin oozing eucalyptus and myrrh. I see your sap draining from the pulp of you where they drilled. The doctors whisper behind sterile curtains that they've never tasted a syrup like yours. They unearth your trunk and carry it to me in a bundle, cradled in the innocent enclaves of their elbows, sapless, still breathing. I promise you new soil, a well-lit room, a pot that's too small