A dense mass of shoots growing from a single point
the natural structure of the plant changed
the deformity of a tree’s own tissue
also called hexenbesen
staghead or tuft
in the rat-rustling night
snakes shimmied down
scorched charred and scathed
tumbling from a blood-red moon
older than anything but the stones
in the trampled mud littered with chips of the trees
cypress yellow poplar elm and palmetto
falling away under the migration of stars
the snakes sharpen themselves on iron and rock
moving at the speed of heartbreak and loneliness
avoiding the soupy grass
crossing the unreliable earth
past the marsh and the trough
branches thick or thin gnarled or straight
rooted in the source of all rivers
the dogs and dogwoods could not stop quivering
the doves weren’t there
the salamanders gone
we must all be resistant to disease and evil
take ginger wear garlic remember the subjunctive
don’t forget to shift the mood
short-leaf pine and hemlock
apple palm eucalyptus cedar
take a far dive away
maps are allowed
maps that will tell you where to board the dreamline
how to live with ambiguity and nuance
but never how to live without trees
hear the wild melancholy wail
cleaving the wind from the sky
you will be swept clean
along the growling early dawn
chinaberry prickly pear walnut pecan
burdock and nettle the single-leaf ash
think of the life you might have lived
had you allowed yourself to live on tree time
the peach the apricot the cherry and plum
persimmon pomegranate papaya and fig
Janie Braverman has an MFA in fiction from Queens University of Charlotte, North Carolina, and completed the selective Book Project at Lighthouse Writers Workshop. Her work, including excerpts from Mother of Millions, her experimental memoir manuscript, has appeared in Persimmon Tree, Medical Literary Messenger, The Baltimore Review, Poetica, and elsewhere.
