you are the leaves of the bay
leaf tree – leaves I want to touch
and put in soup.
suddenly, the quiet dissolves into the traffic of rain,
the leaves bending, taking
the hits as crabs take waves from the
ocean. to identify your species, I took
a book from the bookstore illegally (it was
written by an eminent prof.) and
looked up the details of your leaves. I assiduously
studied the accompanying genera, poison-
and protein-filled alike. you
magicked some flavor into me about then and
after that, how could I care what
you were? all I knew was that you
looked beautiful in the rain.