about to author
a fatality and offer
my last words

I recall
how less than a hundred
feet away

is a backyard giant oak
so large and old it has sucked in
an entire chainlink fence

its roots protrude
like knees from our bad soil
it threatens to fall

in every halfway
scary storm but still
it survives

here I am about to say
“I’m lost” and cut
my wrists or throat

over something as petty
as despair and lack of hope
which are of course not real

that tree has beaten
every obstacle
and grown immense doing so

I remember my chainsaw
is gassed and good
to go and soon

I’m clearing that tree
that ancient smirking rebuke of an oak
not caring what neighbors think

this is why
some empires happen
this is why we scorch and rebuild

something catches our attention
that counsels patience and acceptance
that tells us not to panic

and we say
not now tree
I can’t right now

so you don’t get to be here
you don’t get to be here thriving
you smug bastard