Forbidden Cascadia

We escaped to the Pacific Northwest

and evergreens meshed with

The browns of our skin.

Our bodies, barky

like the bases and trunks.

I saw your face disappear

into an emerald bush,

underneath a cement sky.

And I reached through

a mist of icy fog.

Please just love me,

here at the tips

of this country’s soil.

I’d jump towards

an Alaskan glacier

just to rid myself of the warmth you exude.

These Tacoma tears

Seattle sins,

and Portland passions

are as deep the Mariana Trench.

If only we could enter the

roughness of a log cabin,

hugged between the cascades,

built by our own blistered hands.

Lie beneath dusty quilts

and beside a fire that breathes.

The mountain peaks,

dusted with powdered sugar,

turn bitter

and run like a wound,

for our unfortunate venture.