Tree
The men are beautiful,
mute and efficient in white
sleeveless T’s, biceps bulging
like the slick soybeans
my daughter loves
to pop from the pod and eat.
Mama, do I look sexy?
she wonders at four
then wants to make herself bleed
to prepare for the pain of giving
birth. What should I say?
Dear girl, don’t fear the hurt
as we watch from her bedroom
window, one thriving limb at a time
cut whole from the wide sturdy crotch.
Instead, she turns to me.
The chipper whines
and sucks, too insatiable to feed.
5 replies on “Tree”
Dear Kirstin,
Thank you for the greater gift of your poetry to the world, and thank you especially today for your poem “Tree.” I find the poem elegantly manifold and inscrutable, calling me back to re-re-read it. Thank you for making us stop and hold in our gazes trees, sex, childhood, the flow of time, soybeans, innocence, biceps, chippers, and poetry.
–Bob Broad
As I told you, this is an “ouchy” poem for me, though I love how you say “don’t fear the hurt” in it. I love the progression from white beauty to wood chipper and how it makes me quiver.
Oh, I had to reread the last part over and over, did she really mean chipper…oh how that hurt. real images, strong symbolism. Thank you!
A strong current flowing across the current of literati, Kirstin is special among people persons and poets (the makers of things). Kirstin’s work branches with the best of them, exploring the turbulence always there in rivers of thought. Fortunately for us, her poems ultimately/inevitably carry the same kind of wonderful, giving energy that characterizes her in daily life. I mean, she got all sorts of limbs (tree)hugging us. It feels good to know how much she cares.
WOW! I’ve always told my students that poetry should raise questions for the reader. You centainly raised more than a few questions with this poem. Nicely done.