Image via Wikipedia
A birch—
smooth bark dotted
with eyes—
omniscient voyeur
spying on passersby.
Down its trunk
a scar splays open.
Wide, like a wound
I used to pack with sterile gauze
and normal saline.
(My patient’s name
was Forrest.)
In the gutter, red blossoms
from a nearby
Indian Paint Brush
pile in heaps
like clotted blood.
Forrest’s gash—
the result of a barroom brawl—
or so he’d told me—
never healed.
He didn’t bleed to death.
Just died by the inch,
lost the will to fight
when the woman went off
with his opponent.
The tree has been like this
for years.
Over time some miscreant
continues to inflict like damages
on other branches.
Submitted to One Shot Wednesday: http://onestoppoetry.com/
Advertisements
Oh, I like this, Victoria. We are like trees.
LikeLike
your writing is so rich in texture, Victoria. i always love rereading your poetry and each time discovering something new. brilliant!
LikeLike
The wounds of the Forrest likened to the wounds of the forest–very clever. I really like this.
LikeLike
Wonderful story-poem!
LikeLike
Thought provoking… you got me with the knots of the trees resembling eyes. Well done!
LikeLike
Very cleverly spun tale!
I loved the intensity & the metaphors you used.. very well done..
Hugs xox
LikeLike
this is so very beautiful victoria. one of your gems. your poems never cease to amaze me.
LikeLike
Lovely, I like the way you brought emotional life elements out of the tree. A very clever write and beautifully done.
LikeLike
You lured me into the woods and made me care about Forest. This is so very good, Victoria. Made me happy I came by today. Talent.
LikeLike
Nice…died by the inch…hmmm..
LikeLike
Ooh, that was chilling — I like the connection between your patient and the tree — there’s a whole conversation about the dumb will to survive that could take place here.
LikeLike
You created such beautiful imagery – I am captured
LikeLike
miscreant – a new word for me. I could assume I’ve never been called one, however that may be bad memory.
Wonderful metaphor – I’ve seen those very wounds just like the one you describe in birch and man. The wounded birch was seen to be more civilized.
LikeLike
there was a lot here to chew on. i like the way you used personification throughout.
LikeLike
died by the inch at the loss of his woman…yep, seen that happen…nicely spun tale….and nice allusion between that and the forest
LikeLike
agh…great metaphor for the wounds we carry around at times..very good and deep write victoria with great imagery and an intensity that gave me goose bumps
LikeLike