The Tree

Every time someone
tells the story
of a routine atrocity or
an ongoing oppression
on a big enough
and well-lit stage,

someone watching or listening
will wring their hands
and fall to their knees in anguish,
crying out, “why is no one
talking about this?”

so loudly that it drowns out
the creaking
from the death-laden branch
of the well-maintained
and perfectly manicured tree
in their backyard,

the one that came with the house,
the one that sold them on the place
back when they were looking for
their forever home.







About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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