the grief of the grove

i- I ring a large scream that every tree will sing

to the squirrels who shall forget to die that season -

next year, the undead will carve out an eagle’s

notes on the heads of the fallen song & cry & cry -

ii- In the grief of the grove lies the sullen

bark – take it away and the sun will

melt your sheen your idea of tear &

giving birth – the sun as mother