cicada tree

September 15, 2013
there was a tree (yes, my dear)
garnet branches and candy leaves (i saw them myself)
cicadas droned and shelled themselves (they were brittle)
the tree was strong (arms like a man raising his)
tuesday breath in the morning (it was my sister and i)

a day ago (or a month or a year or a decade)
only dead wood left (a mound six feet high, not under)
a nursery for children (human young over trees)
the blackberry air was stolen by plaster (the thorns were gone)
the cicadas mumbled (they did not understand)

we’ll come back one day (i swear it, my dear)
the blackberries will splatter (purple and blue on my chin)
the cicadas will not shed (they have grown tired of it)
tuesday air is kind (it has forgiven the blackberries)
that tree will grow again (and my dear, we shall see it)

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