For they shall be comforted
This oak took its bad news to the heart.
Lightning struck two springs ago
as I snored between my flashing walls.
Now scallops of orange fungus layer
the fissured bark. Spider sacs trailing
ragged webs streak the splinters like comets.
I have lost someone. Her eyes flash
among the decaying leaves. I hear
her small hands fluttering in the creek.
Grieve me, she calls. Split your heart
with my face. There is nothing else
I can do. I pull up a broken branch. I sit.