by Kelly DuMar
mast years, or i am once again wishing we could be trees
it has been recorded that, deep in wild & ancient forests, tree stumps go on living, despite whatever violence cut them down in the first place. it seems that, on occasion, neighboring & nearby trees will nourish their felled friends, feeding them sugars & other nutrients through their root systems. this kindness can go on for centuries. *
i am learning how to be soft / i take my cues from supernovas, thread my mouth
with velvet & pine sap / it is winter—& the radio plays something sweet & slow
& i am reminded / that there is earth that hasn’t known your touch; hasn’t known
the way you turn history over with your tongue / hasn’t known that—i should like
to be made beautiful; to be dressed in snow goose down / & quiet stillness, in some-
thing tied up in holy furs / what must it be like to bend beneath a new weight like
stubborn shelter / to be wed in summer’s clothing—& naked come the fall? i have
been told that it is better to be content / than happy & most days, i believe this to be
true / because the way to want is simply an unhinging of your jaw & breathing your
name inside of a throat / like a glass jar sweet with jam; it’s as simple as decorating
your delicate hands with / something like pinecones & morning &—it’s simple, you
say, when you can no longer grow as tall / or when your spine cannot stretch any
farther, i will spend my days describing the sky to you / every star & shade of blue
&—it is winter, & i am learning how to be soft / when i walk, i do not see the trees;
i do not see the forest / i see only you.
*the text found before this poem is paraphrased from The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate – Discoveries from a Secret World by Peter Wohlleben.
An avid introvert, full-time carbon-based life-form and pop music scholar, Ashley Cline crash-landed in south Jersey some time ago and still calls that strange land home. Her poetry has appeared in 404 Ink, Landlocked Magazine, and Parentheses Journal, among others, and her debut chapbook, & watch how easily the jaw sings of god, is forthcoming from Glass Poetry Press. She graduated from Rowan University in 2013 with a Bachelor’s degree in Journalism, and her best at all-you-can-eat sushi is 5 rolls in 11 minutes. Twitter: @the_Cline.
Kelly DuMar is a poet, playwright and workshop facilitator from Boston. She’s author of three poetry chapbooks, girl in tree bark (Nixes Mate, 2019), Tree of the Apple, (Two of Cups Press), and All These Cures, (Lit House Press). Her poems, prose and photos are published in many literary journals including Bellevue Literary Review, Tupelo Quarterly, Crab Fat, Storm Cellar, Corium & Tiferet, and frequently in Feral. Kelly serves on the Board of the International Women’s Writing Guild (IWWG), and produces the Bi-Monthly Open Mic Writer Series attended by women worldwide. She blogs her daily nature photos & creative writing at kellydumar.com/blog.