wildcat

At the hurl of a storm, the tree collapses.

Stagnant from then on, broken. Such an easy thing to be.

In the unpredicted wind, it sways

back and forth on its trunk, tendons straining

If I had nine lives, I would spend the first one jumping from a tall mountain, the wind in my hair, and filling my lungs, the full feeling of freedom. After that, maybe I'd find peace and wouldn’t fear the mountains.

They don't think I notice

They don't think I notice how stingy we're becoming:

They don't think I notice the reluctance to use the propane heat.

They don't think I notice how cold it is when I crawl out of bed every morning.

I’ve never been religious much —

My Faith is in the trees.

The sort of Lord I worship flies among the Bumblebees.

And my idea of Heaven is buried ‘neath Her leaves —

a lesbian couple on my bus home from school 

a man in a punk battle jacket on the street 

my mother's female CEO group chat blowing up 

four of my teachers taking the following day off 

You can't skip over the third stair

if you're sneaking into the kitchen

because all the stairs creak,

just in different ways.

They don't talk about the light

in the closet