I’m planning on sending some work out over Spring Break, so I was looking back through some of my poems, older and newer, and I came across something rather interesting—a collection of Slam Poetry pieces I wrote early in my undergraduate career. I found one in particular, “Tree Secrets,” that is kind of fun; thought I’d go ahead and share. It’s interesting to see how far my work has come. . .
TREE SECRETS (working title)
I miss you; I miss you in the way I was never meant to miss
anyone. Not the way others miss you, no,
the way a girl might find herself searching
for ways to hear his voice again—
a recorded message, a snippet on the radio
from a man who sounds like you—
a girl who tapes together pieces of paper
that eventually look like you—a string, a feather, a marble.
These are the things she has left of you,
the things I leave on the table, just out of reach,
so I can miss them as much as I miss you.
That way, some morning, we can rise like the stars do,
and when you’ve arrived here,
I can hold these things in my hands and say,
look! look at what you’ve left me with.
The stars are left, wide open, on the sky;
there are dogs loose in the street.
Women walk them. Men park their cars. Silence is not frequent here.
Your voice is lost somewhere, inside, behind a closed door,
probably with another woman, by now, but still—
I find myself awake and counting:
counting these things that are collected on the table,
on a windowsill, sometimes under a pillow,
wishing like children’s teeth, for something better,
trees put back in time, somewhere before winter,
before they’ve lost the golden leaves.
That’s what they continue to search for; they say,
rewind. put back the clock.