The dogwood is ready to let go drop
her coral pendants     red, red, red.
I am ready to disappear     given the slip
my kiss betrayed.     Gone bare

the dogwood's breathing out her heart
in leafrain     muttering
they are her children     seething
nation     settling     scattered far     apart

The tree has weathered this before
militant stumps     cheer her onward
drifting     over the highway
over the sheer
                   goodby     goodby

Henry Gould | Island Road 4
Contents | Mudlark No. 6