You Were My Tree
You Were My Tree
a downy pecker veers left, to land in a
leafless black cherry. the sky turns like
milk sours- darkening all but the horizon,
which is lit up like a drunk
delivering his punchline.
i see the invasive garlic mustard
which drives off the native spring
ephemerals, and feel powerless.
i long for snow ladies and starbursts,
but settle for this pink rock i found,
resembles quartz. it is salt someone
planted to draw deer.
that last night i held onto you like the
handle of a trunk containing everything
i owned. my thoughts now are spread
out like branches.
i draw tight the collar of my coat i got
in Cleveland, where we would go for a
walk and not talk for miles.