August 15, 2003

You break the berries in your hand
And snap the branch from the tree—
so crude! Now the tree is hurt,
It will weep its gums and resins
to thin air. The berries are poison,
Also bright and delicious-looking.
Perhaps an animal will eat them,
But to a dog, even candy is poison.
Or the animal is used to the berries—
Its system understands them,
Can ingest them, without a system failure.
It would hurt to see the animal die.
I don’t want anyone to die really.
I broke the branch because it suited
My highly formalized grief.
But I don’t keen like a mother would.
Light or Lucidas is an abstraction,
A piece of molding that tracks the sky
Apart in blue and purple segments.
When he rises in the east next time
The branches on the bush will heal.
Perhaps a dog will sniff around the roots,
Sensing that its foe, a giant mastiff, nears.