Monday, December 5, 2011

Birthday tree.

You are my
this is my
my pretty plastic
blue boat that
I got
for my day
of birth.
Here it is.

They thought
I was a
boy, but I
was not. I
did not need

My grandma, she
had a dream
of me, one night.
I was a girl.
I am a woman.

She gave me
a tree, a birthday
tree, red japanese fingers,
spindly leaves that land,

still bluster down
to the dry grass
behind my parent's house.
The root ball
is too large to move now.
Only twenty-two,
it lives in its grave.