I often think about
those clipped branches
sawed limbs
decapitated fingers
arms and heads of a tree
maybe like us
the creature's deepest feelings
must wait for
a sympathetic listener
to let them out
perhaps
that sliver of moon
on a cloudy night
who hears the screams
no one else can
I heard this idea that what’s in the frig says a lot about who you are lots of leftovers say you hold on to things cuz you might need them nearly ripened fruit whisper you like to wait for the perfect
the green mangoes in my yard are in a hurry to gestate a promise these children of a tree are pushing up delivery of another birth their buttery sweetness into the cribs of mouths to showers of ooohs
clean yes but not looking my best after a shower I need a petal dryer the sun some primping by the wind my face needs lifting to hold proud and high for the public reveal I must bloom my best you kn