We Hang in Trees

Mar 26, 2008 - 12:36 PM PST

We were told we were too young to climb, Pym and I. Still we wrap our legs around the boughs, hang like hooks, our heads ornaments. Sometimes at night Pym puts his flashlight into his mouth, puffs out his cheeks, and he glows -- my moon; I tide by him, rising, falling. Pym swings and stretches out his neck, bites off a leaf, spits it out and we watch as it catches the wind and is swept away. Hidden, we’re hidden in the rustling, tickled by the twigs. We drape ourselves across the limbs and sparkle like garland. One day I will fall and forever after be afraid of hanging in trees, and Pym will stay with the sticks to become a tumor on the top of the trunk, but for now we hang onto the tree, to each other. We were told we were too young, but still we climb, Pym and I.