a tree of skulls grows in the living room

cracks in bone spread vine-like & 
teeth chatter in their own languages--
fall out on the wooden floor still trembling. 
the tree is just like the one 
we stood in front of at the museum of natural history.
it charts the evolution of humans
& my roommates & i sit on the floor to get a closer look
at how each skull changed. the tree has
replaced our TV. the tree has replaced
all the windows in our house. we love the tree.
we point to the skulls we wish we had. 
behind glass had we made fun 
of the neanderthals with their 
large skulls & their knotted hair. their knuckles
thick with brute force. one exhibit showed
a male & female neanderthal walking 
side by side & we joked about 
what they might consider a date:
rubbing mud on each other's faces,
pulling up tufts of grass, chewing strip of sinew. 
the truth is i want to do all of that 
to love someone. i felt the contours of 
my skull. the tree rattled to summon us closer
but we didn't want to get any closer.
the tree grows bodies from each cranium.
soft ancient people. what kinds of dreams
did their bodies have? was there a moment
when only one neanderthal was left?
what did she tell herself 
alone between trees.
we are terrified of them. how did
we let our home become like this?
a site for the gathering of bodies.
the plaques explained that neanderthals
might have died because of clashes
with humans. we start apologizing to them.
we tell the neanderthals that we think
they['re beautiful. that we would
go back in time & make sure 
we never killed them if we could.
of course, there's other possibilities
for their extinction: climate changes,
disease, famine, & so on. we know those
aren't true though. we know humans 
always have their hands in death.
the neanderthals are forgiving.
they want to touch our skulls
so we let them. we promise them 
we are trying our best to be
good animals & they laugh like
snapping twigs at us. humans are
so tragic & we look at each other differently.
our apartment is too small for all
these mouths & all these teeth.
we ask the neanderthals politely 
if they could leave & they are kind 
so they do. we cry about the emptiness.
we pace the hallway. we remember how
at the museum the baby neanderthals
reminded us of all our younger brothers.
they're off in the world now
but the tree remains. we take it apart--
skull by skull. set them on the curb
to be taken away 
with two black trash bags in the morning.