Penmanship of TreesShira Dentz
Take these lines brown cursive of branches, however flimsy, hurl them at the white shrouded sky. Animal musk absent from the pelts of boughs Penetrate the white of anger, a gluten-like fat. Nodules that line my throat Enter the white amnesiac hive, not honeycomb- or yolk- yellow. Beads swarm, then—shingling, a migration of pine needles Cool the number of damp beads in this morning’s wind, smell the leaves and woodstuff it edged around and bore into all night; no one saw. A stalk of tree branches rocks behind the porch.
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