Back Page - February/March 2010

NOVEMBER ROOTS

The tree that once towered above
my landlord’s garage has been chopped down,
gone, bedded
with dead leaves raked
over to hide the earth’s pockmark.
The stump is twisted to the side.

These fingers, once proud, weaken.
They let go handfuls of soil,
dropping spine of trunk
into the vast pockets of earth.
There’s nothing left to embalm.
It’s my turn now to summer.