Louise Mather
In the first place
I dreamed about your tree, last night;
I dreamed they cut it down,
and if there were such a thing
as a dowsing rod for cellulose,
I would go back there for you
in the night, and trace out each root
with a line of light, and maybe,
if the dark was warm, if our arms were strong,
we would dig a careful furrow along each day-bright trail,
and free each root from the land below,
carefully, and with pauses to shower
each dirt-stuck, earth-struck limb
with cool water
to keep your tree breathing as we lift it,
carry it, take it home
through the ground-gray morning
because it is a tree you planted in the yard
of a house whose threshold
we won’t pass through again, and “belonging”
is not a problem until we raise
the question of “with” versus “to.”
Sidney Dritz is a former copywriter and current dirt enthusiast. Recent poetry publications include pieces in Worms and Janus Literary. She is currently “working” on a ““novel.”” Follow her work as it develops on Twitter at @sidneydritz.
Louise Mather is a writer from Northern England and founding editor of Acropolis Journal. Her work is published in various print and online literary journals and her pamphlet The Dredging of Rituals is out with Alien Buddha Press. She writes about ancestry, motherhood, endometriosis, fatigue and mental health. Twitter @lm2020uk.