we tear at trees

we tear at trees with bleak disdain
angered by their windswept dance
flash their wanton fall display
invite their own destruction
we self-righteous rapists, we

tear them down to make them ours
raise our structures to supplant
with submissive, suburban tableau
of rounded shrubs and well-kept grass
nary a hair falls out of place
vistas meant for photo ops, and

trees reject obedience
replace them with our barren wombs
home to sundry parasites
where there’s a roof we need no tree
a thing of no importance, just
a stick with leaves, and nothing more

to do but tear them down; but
wonder, I, if God had hewn
their tender leaves from sparkling jade
or carve each sprig from turquoise skies –
if flowing leaves were ruby stones, or
etched of gold to blind the sun, would
we tear them down for pocket change, or

find their value where they stand, to
bow and dance in windswept woods
we’d learn the steps and say their prayers
and hope to know their secret words, that
God has whispered, sweetly

we tear at trees with bleak disdain
we, self-righteous rapists, we