To The Deceased Tree A Hurricane Killed
Wait five months for men to take you away.
My front yard for two seasons your corpse on
display monopolizes my view. Decay
everyday. Limbs forbid my intrusion
on luminous days when a girl might stray
into the blades with a book and a pen,
a mundanity of yesterday.
Your exit requires a Bobcat and men, thousands
of dollars, weekend of work. Impression
you leave behind in the dirt arouses
in me the hope of spring’s sown succession,
but, too, the rude realization I’ll die
before the next tree fills your hole in the sky.
Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of 20 books of poetry including Candy Cigarette Womanchild Noir (Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press), and Girlarium (Fahmidan Journal). She is the founder of Pink Plastic House a tiny journal and co-founder of Performance Anxiety, an online poetry reading series. Follow her on Twitter: (@lolaandjolie) and her website kristingarth.com