Sport 37: Winter 2009
Certain Trees
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.