the honey locust out front
one of only three brave trees
to survive the hatchet woman,

who claims to have loved me
once upon a jealous time,
is simply molting like mad

dropping little desiccated
clumps of yellow feathers
beneath its skeletal limbs

and you know, i like it this way
i have to say it feels somehow
quite appropriate considering

Salt Lake City 08 Oct 2012

[Lately I seem not to have found a voice for anything but darkness, and while I have written much, I have withheld it all, waiting for some sign of a revival in my spirits. I feel I should apologize for this verse and for the next several verses to follow. They strike me as obsessively morose, and worthy of deletion. But they were composed honestly, and in all honesty I confess to myself that we are as much the product of the darkness that dwells disconsolate within us as we are of the light.]

2 thoughts on “decay

  1. George–I am not going to disagree with you, because after all you wrote it, but I do feel a sense of hope, in that this little tree survived the axe and is defiantly shedding leaves all over your yard. That is feathery hope, in all its fragility and defiance, spreading on your yard.


    • Susan, you have always been so kind. Your verses and your replies to my writing have inspired and comforted me. Thank you. And I appreciate how you interpret hope in this. Yes, there must be hope. Although I should warn you that this verse about the tree was probably the nicest of what has been coming out of me lately. Time to share another, I think.


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