Ashleigh Young
Certain Trees
One tree pretends to throw things
and the wind goes sprinting, then skids, turns –
ha! sucked in again, old wind!
One tree chooses to be apart,
like a door halfway up a wall.
My window groans with the weight
of trees
staking their territory. Humpbacked trees,
shipwrecks of trees
with piano keys inside
like the Titanic. Certain trees sway
holding lighted leaves up
as a voice sings out of a man
inside my neighbour's radio
why you on your own tonight?
The ones you shun always come back
to sing at you.
Certain trees reach for a woman
who is handing washing to the wind, a shirt
by the arms, pants by the waist, socks
by the feet;
handing over parts of the body has never
been so easy.
The wind sprints past the window again
it gets dark quickly
and certain trees reach for me.
