You are my only witness,
gnarled gaunt tree
with moss buried branches
wooden yet stone-still
without movement
you point that
black finger at me
You whisper and threaten
in accusation (or envy?)
Not tonight tree,
I have no time for
your jealousy (or guilt)
I have this ability
to perambulate
not those stiff arthritic limbs!
gnarled gaunt tree
you lichen-cloaked
carcass
you hypocrite
do not gawk at me,
I still have my hatchet!
you alone have seen
these stained hands' capability.
Bees will not pollinate
your fragrant white flowers
Birds will not eat
your small sweet cherries
I stand, I swing,
I sweat & scream
Your prehistoric roots
will not writhe
to reveal
my secret.
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