Courtesy of my friend Sweet Machine and person-I-don’t-know Joshua Robbins, here’s a poem by Dorianne Laux from 9/10/2002. I really like it, and hope you do too.
Cello
When a dead tree falls in a forest
it often falls into the arms
of a living tree. The dead,
thus embraced, rasp in wind,
slowly carving a niche
in the living branch, shearing away
the rough outer flesh, revealing
the pinkish, yellowish, feverish
inner bark. For years
the dead tree rubs its fallen body
against the living, building
its dead music, making its raw mark,
wearing the tough bough down
as it moans and bends, the deep
rosined bow sound of the living
shouldering the dead.
Buy Dorianne Laux’s book Facts About The Moon from W. W. Norton.