Oh rowan and ash, oh oak,
oh willow and pine.
Oh save me from my mind,
from belts and bruises and hammers.
Please. Save me from burning flesh
and screams screams screams. From
electrical grids on a mattress and the quarters.
Please. Save me from kerosene, from
laps, from kiwi and canned beans,
from bread balls and pan fried crusts.
Oh, pine, save me from the ground,
from the makeshift pulpit, from
words and wails and water. Save me from
the water, from death in a recliner,
Natural Light still in hand, from
broken concrete, from… from… from memory.
Wipe it clean.

One thought on “Pine

  1. Interesting poem! I’m wondering if I led myself off track. Pine makes me think of a pine box, death, save me, the plea to avoid all the negative memories that assault the narrator and such an diverse array thatmelds so well together.
    I enjoy the length and breadth of it. Thank you!

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