the grief of the grove

I ring a large scream that every tree
will sing

to the squirrels who shall forget to die
that season –

next year, the undead will carve out
an eagle’s

notes on the heads of the fallen song
& cry & cry –

In the grief of the grove lies
the sullen

bark – take it away and the
sun will

melt your sheen your idea of
tear &

giving birth – the sun as