What an embarrassment, what kind of grace | Rose Auslander | The Piltdown Review

What an embarrassment, what kind of grace

What an embarrassment, what kind of grace

thanking the tall maple

over on Sea Street,

it was or it wasn’t

me hearing waves crash

in the high branches

swaying, wanting

to swim up

in the wind—

it understands, the maple

silent as that man,

chain saw in hand, hacks away

pruning branches one by one,

it is or it isn’t me it hurts,

shrinking.  

shortlink: dogb.us/grace

          

               

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