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Poetry
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| Hardwood Maple | |
| By andybyers | ||||||
| 27 August 2007 | ||||||
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There crouched in all resilience in autopsy the dead snow rotting the birds back to peck its carcass Fingertipped unmittened blue the iron clank swing set chains up the hill not wanting to wait Thunderstorms broken on the rocks but healing hungry Locks picked by wind lifted from young eyes whispered the furnaced It: fat appled limbs frolic salt-stainery unshod field tipped tricycle So I listened believed The sap ran down me mourning six-armed glazing the sun so I could eat it hot off the griddle, blue unending Hardwood maple— bone-knotted tear-keyed blond-leafed —learns to wait
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