Ashleigh Young

Certain Trees

One tree pretends to throw things
and the wind goes sprinting, then skids, turns –
ha! sucked in again, old wind!

One tree chooses to be apart,
like a door halfway up a wall.
My window groans with the weight

of trees
staking their territory. Humpbacked trees,
shipwrecks of trees

with piano keys inside
like the Titanic. Certain trees sway
holding lighted leaves up

as a voice sings out of a man
inside my neighbour's radio
why you on your own tonight?
The ones you shun always come back

to sing at you.
Certain trees reach for a woman
who is handing washing to the wind, a shirt

by the arms, pants by the waist, socks
by the feet;
            handing over parts of the body has never
            been so easy.

The wind sprints past the window again
            it gets dark quickly
and certain trees reach for me.

Author’s Note


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