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The Red Maple (first draft)


You’re green now, tree,

you’re green, and leaves

will cover your wound;

that broken branch will fall


eventually, storm-slashed

off, now strung upside down,

hooked onto a sibling

adjacent sturdy limb.


Just as we, too, deep now

in this bright darkling wood,

dispute the selva oscura to be

and the future fractal fall.



April 15, 2022



A subsequent version of this poem was published in the New English Review in June 2022.





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