the tree who gave

after it was all done
and the world had settled
on the final whisper of hope;
the tree sighed with relief.
it has spent rings of centuries
feeding generations of
unthankful fools that caused
the damnation of its divine sanctuary.
now all there is to give
is a last single breath of air
to a banal island in space.
now all there is to do
is to plead that it will be enough
to save something that is
unworthy of being saved.

Sawyer Fell

18 years old

Poetry

By Sawyer Fell

With My Mother in My Chest. My Chest

Eight AM, I wake in my father’s home with my mother in my chest.

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Poetry

By Sawyer Fell

To Relive or to Remember

There was a vacant bathroom outside the church park.
I crawl in beat, destitute, feeding off the radiant waves.
I stare into a warped mirror punched by drunken twilight boys,

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Poetry

By Sawyer Fell

In Knowing You, For But a Moment

On the porch, with grooves of woven twine
embedded into the underbelly of my thighs,
I sit and listen intently for you. My ears perked,
with unruly fire-streaked hair tucked behind them,

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the tree who gave

Sawyer Fell

Comments

More by Sawyer Fell

With My Mother in My Chest. My Chest

To Relive or to Remember

In Knowing You, For But a Moment