Thursday, March 20, 2014

the linden tree

a tree, standing in branchy solidarity with its fellow companions
a tree hidden and unassuming with arms outstretched in a lazy embrace
waiting to be discovered
waiting to have a human
with calloused hands and a heart of naivety, I climbed

we were introduced to one another as we traded touch for cuts
at 20 feet, the perfect branch:
a hammock-shaped limb, like a wooden cupped hand
waiting to hold something/someone

another day, another ascent
I brought pencils in my teeth and books on my back
a tree became a desk and the canopy 
peered over my shoulder, cheating
reading my answers

another month, another ascent
not to be held
not to do homework
but to hide
and escape walls hunched under the weight of hateful words
to hide from parents erasing their marriage
and erasing each other
parents who pushed me into learning to love trees

rather than people

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