Inosculation
In the semi-darkness,
I think I hear the sucking sounds
from trees merging in the woods.
I discover two maples — joined.
The smaller of the two
was cut and scarred years ago,
and the larger one has been holding it
and feeding it ever since.
This pair, grown together, sharing
the same sun-greened sugars,
the same nitrogen sucked up
from the roots: how fatuous to think
of wood in love, affection in bark —
the sweet sap.
I blanch at this intimacy
unavailable to my kind.
They go to sleep together in autumn
and wake up together in the spring.
*NOTE: The term inosculation derives from the Latin roots in + osculari, to kiss into/inward/against; trees having undergone the inosculation process are referred to in forestry as gemels, from the Latin word meaning a pair.
BARRY WALLENSTEIN has published eleven collections of poetry, most recently, It’s About Time (New York Quarterly Books, 2022). Read more.