11/02

a single leaf 

i make the first tear down
the middle of the leaf, right along
the little spine. i steal them from
bushes by the red brick apartment complex 
up the street. i like to walk & consider
all the people coming in & out of their 
dwelling places. i wonder if any of them
pull leaves from these bushes. if they also 
like the texture. i promise i'm not 
a destructive person but that's not
entirely true. if i could i would 
probably break more glasses-- steal them
like leaves from the high shelf 
& toss them out the window. for a split second
i could make believe they were birds 
& somewhere between the ground & the ledge
they would flap & save themselves. there is
a lot of falling going on. i count the ledges
in my house. i tear the leaves until 
there's nothing left to tear. flecks
of green scattered on the sidewalk. 
i tell the bush i'm sorry that this 
is just something i need right now.
to feel this injury. to consider 
my own spine & how thin it could be
if i were to one day grow from a 
feeble branch. if i were to one day 
shutter in the november wind waiting
for the warmth of fingers pressed 
down on me. would i expect care? 
would i expect laceration? i do this.
i do. i sit & i hope to be torn apart.
i pick a porch & become a knot of mums.
i call the numbers of old lovers & 
hang up before they can answer.
i imagine their fingers around their phones
as if ready to rip them apart. the leaves 
produce a sticky residue. blood i think
feeling guilty. i think of my own 
blood & wish it was green.  
wish it were less so that 
i would make less mess. wish there were
men hiding in the bushes 
for me to reach in & hold in 
my hand. wish they would tell me
to injure them kindly & i would show
them just where to tear me in return.
we come apart symmetrically
just like leaves. i search the bushes 
& no one waits there so i climb.
i sing my apologies to the plant.
to tell the plant to 
hurt me if it wants but it 
does nothing. let's the wind 
trace a finger across each limb.
i ask the wind to touch me the same
& it does.

Leave a comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.