arboretum of only willow trees

there is a willow tree whose arms 
won't stop growing. a living skirt.
i used to wear skirts that 
dusted the floor. i used to want
a straw broom to sweep with.
i used to scour the dust pile 
for pennies. the willow tree 
is hiding a skull underneath.
a bone glowing in the dark. each tooth:
a black piano key. the willow tree
in on a hill over several horizon lines.
we jumped rope with 
the edges of paintings. there are details
always out of view. i should 
be more specific: if you peel back
the label you will find there is plenty 
of vitamin c in elderberries.
we are doing what we can to survive.
the grass gets taller unevenly 
& tries to swallow my shoes.
i want to live underneath 
the willow tree. i want 
to have bangs again
& let them grow down past my nose.
i want a curtain to encircle me
or a changing room to appear
in the middle of the busy world.
i am imagining the waist bands of skirts
without the skirts. i set out
a bowl of candy to feed the birds
who never got to be children.
i drew the 6 of cups last night
& the tarot deck laughed at me
saying you are a nostaligc skeleton.
this is why i get along with the willow tree.
she cries over memories 
that don't even belong to her.
she invents a mother to hate her.
she wishes she was 
a seed again. i curled up 
in her fountain of arms & pretend
to be a seed. her flowers are in bloom:
white cottom & lip-pink. i fill 
my mouth with the flowers
remembering the first time
i tasted cotton candy & said 
it disappeared! where does it go?
maybe a second life as a flower.
everything is moving in sequences.
when i die i will be without a doubt 
a willow tree & i will still worry
about the extinction of kiwi birds 
& global warming & whether or not
anyone loves me. i will wish 
someone would cut my branches 
& make a broom. my parents kitchen floor
will still be red & mice will still
look for morsels there.
very few things change. have you considered
a willow tree on fire?