Dry Bones of Trees

                  The stump is the neck of the tree,
                  the roots the real body;
                  the head is the branches and trunk,
                  and it's the head we want.
                  Or is it the skull we want—
                  the dry bones of a tree-head?
                  The hearth of America cracks with bones,
                  and homes make skulls for us as brains:

                  Our blood is sap and our flesh water;
                  our dog is a tumor in the tree-skull,
                  an ingrown bark, a reminder of perfection,
                  a cry for the stump.
                  And at night, at our TV's,
                  We scramble the brains of trees.
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