Tree naked and cold as goats
hating winter in the open
field, but dumb,
tree is soundless She takes
it, takes the violent-breeze-swirling through her limbs
Can't cry can't scream, no
Breeze-pleaser tree Wind would have
to press its nonexistent ear to her bark
to
hear heart thud hard in protest
But Wind does no such listening
She-tree is frozen, froze
after
the last yellow tear fell, plucked Winter after god-forsaken
winter
why doesn't she learn
not to
show so much skin
And no photograph of wind
Tree is thick-skinned and silent as a woman
whose
sky is blocked by a ceiling and stares
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