back to branch
a poem
2 min readJul 6, 2023
The dogwood tree at the bottom of the yard
hugged me as I read
half-listening for Granmaw’s shrill worry
today was the day
I would break my arm
I hadn’t done that since fifth grade
slipped and straddled the playground damp wood beam
right hand, three fractures, half-casted
taking tests, pillow on desk
the dogwood tree at the bottom of the yard
knew my breaks, my crooked back
carried my books and took the sun…