The Broken Trees
the title holders killed
the young trees we planted
in the open space
beyond the property line
believing the land was free
the self-chosen ones brewing
their purple juice behind
a new eight-foot fence
i am the vine
another wall erected
to indifference
heavy with posts
you are the branches
proclaiming
with the near and distant grinding
of incessant machines
metal beasts
for hoisting harrowing drilling
bush hogging
crushing trampling
tractor tons on wheels
with blades out front
cutting thin life
punishment for arrival
i am the vine
you are the branches
a tall barricade
to define borders
keep deer
from jumping over
protect acres
and acres
of rows
and rows of
hobby grapes
tended by day laborers
to ferment
the worst
of virginia wine
i take the credit
the spotted lantern flies
evasive invasive in abundance
whisper by with unnatural speed
sprites mocking the landowners
sucking sap from tendrils and twigs
undoing the serious plans of summer
nothing to stop them
bats opossums
diseased destroyed
the young trees insignificant
in the harvest landscape
only beginning to understand
how to gather the fibers
to weave souls together
who knows what words
they will never speak
now that they are dead
you take the chances
we are near the madness
those on our side
remind us in our anger
in our sadness how we took
upon ourselves the risk
of planting life
setting roots
where we did not have
permission to go
they turn to their azaleas
set about the foundations
of good order and offer
there will be time
for other trees hours
to till the small gardens
manicure the plots
they point to
the brown figs remark
how they're ripening
early this year tell us
we must try some
before we go
impunity of late
calling the shots
blind with fear's foresight
we listen to the shallow advice
but all we can think about
are the holes
i am the vine
you are the branches
i take the credit
you take the chances
imagining
who will dig them
what will fill them
what are the chances