Trees
I love trees that stay
away from me. But when a leafy finger
pokes my eye, I squint.
I’m willing to dismiss it
as an irony. A limb
that knocks my head because I didn’t duck?
That turns my heart into a chainsaw.
John Lee Clark
I love trees that stay
away from me. But when a leafy finger
pokes my eye, I squint.
I’m willing to dismiss it
as an irony. A limb
that knocks my head because I didn’t duck?
That turns my heart into a chainsaw.
John Lee Clark