NEW POEM
Tree Behind the Sunken Garden, Early April
4/4/05
crouching brown beasts, their faces buried in dark soil, their necks wrapping into one body/
an open hand reaches from the ground, its scales silver in the evening light, a reptilian claw/
the steady consistency of asphalt, a road rising from the earth, forking into three avenues, which shatter/
into tendrils, then dart and shoot and cross in webs of shattered sky, a windshield after collision/
shattered into a thousand shining shards, emeralds glowing like fireflies between the crossing branches/
they darken, lighten, shrink and shift, occasionally leaving a gap, sunlight staring down through it/
a flash of light blue, because when you look as deep in as you can, there’s only light/
4/4/05
crouching brown beasts, their faces buried in dark soil, their necks wrapping into one body/
an open hand reaches from the ground, its scales silver in the evening light, a reptilian claw/
the steady consistency of asphalt, a road rising from the earth, forking into three avenues, which shatter/
into tendrils, then dart and shoot and cross in webs of shattered sky, a windshield after collision/
shattered into a thousand shining shards, emeralds glowing like fireflies between the crossing branches/
they darken, lighten, shrink and shift, occasionally leaving a gap, sunlight staring down through it/
a flash of light blue, because when you look as deep in as you can, there’s only light/