against a grey sky
November 13, 2007
a last leaf holds on
brown and brittle it shakes
losing small pieces
dying for Christmas
January 20, 2007
The tree we cut
and carried
into our home
the one
we shackled
trimmed
sang to
and toasted
(rip a suckling child
from its mother)
(put makeup on a statue)
(be happy at a rape)
now lies on
its side
alone
with her hooks
and tinsel
riffling in the wind
I have slowly,
not always smoothly,
not always with confidence,
inched myself out onto this limb.
It
is
far
safer
near
the
trunk.
2004
qazse 