Le cerisier
Your palms speak poems,
lyrics in the creases
under callused inner knuckles.
You are a caresser of trees,
easing fruit from behind the dead leaves
of unnecessary branches.
By the clothesline, you pluck a small cherry,
place it in my mouth
so I understand its bitterness.
Then I watch you cut the branches back,
back until nothing remains
but a bare grey trunk rooted in our garden.
~ Jennifer Campbell
Jennifer Campbell is a graduate of the Creative Writing program at the University of Calgary. She holds a Master’s in Social Anthropology from McGill University, where she is currently pursuing her PhD. Her poetry was most recently published in Descant 140. She spends her time writing in Calgary, Montreal, and a small village in the French Pyrenees.
soulful poem, I think if you avoid repeating “you are”
Will look nicer.
Because he is your “you are”
Sylva