- Vol. 08
- Chapter 12
Today I take your key
and walk to meet no one.
A lone tree is standing in the park,
purpling red in shadow
by the wire fence. Bloody, but
kind of beautiful. Grown into wound.
A terrible rot is setting into her. I trace splinters
bitten by winds when a limb snapped and fell.
Her trunk is hollowed; a heart opened up
like a horrid rose. They will cut her down
and cut her down. I see your reflection
on winter's dead heel and think
of the cold home we once shared, waiting.
Spring dew is trembling; the idea of July too much.