01-13-2014, 10:47 AM
I am no longer acquainted
with you;
when you speak to me
I do not know
what to say
I wonder sometimes
if you remember
the birch trees
from the Beach Road house
They walked at night, moving
to different locations
in our yard, trying to warn us
about the future
The one at the corner
looked like a naked corpse,
like you look now: white
leafed hair, black spots
on slender branches
I remember cutting it down
in 1972; it was diseased,
and you said it was the right thing
to do
We cut it into smaller pieces,
stacking them like body parts
against our cellar door
with you;
when you speak to me
I do not know
what to say
I wonder sometimes
if you remember
the birch trees
from the Beach Road house
They walked at night, moving
to different locations
in our yard, trying to warn us
about the future
The one at the corner
looked like a naked corpse,
like you look now: white
leafed hair, black spots
on slender branches
I remember cutting it down
in 1972; it was diseased,
and you said it was the right thing
to do
We cut it into smaller pieces,
stacking them like body parts
against our cellar door