PERHAPS THE POET IS A RAPIST

poem trees

cedars
poplars
elms and oaks
these are the gay trees
whose fleshy 
grainy
dirt filled 
clawing
amorously
branches and 

cum drenched leaves
reach for
beech whore
these dutch meat pies
and

while 
pines and spruce
and 
willows
these are the 
clearly 
dearly
oh so nearly
heterosexual
trees

how copious they fill the forests
with their manly chatter
baby batter
i am told that the gay urge is one towards death
how solemn in their 
masculine
glory

while of course
what source
what divine joke would make them
all the others
tsk tsk tsk
these bisexual fern filled
oh what the squirrels will say
these ambiguous 
amphibious
(why can they not pick sides)
oh such 
have to have it their way
trees

perhaps the fruit
doesn't fall far 
from

maybe it depends on
who catches
me