Deadwood

so outside my house there’s this
tree
it took root in early february of the year 2000
and it’s the ugliest damn thing I’ve seen.

inside and out.

It’s short and stout

with chunky stubby branches and

a hole in the center

dripping with wax

because I got angry and punched it straight through.

but the thing about this tree is that

it follows.

my father sighs and comes home after

hours and hours of work

and works for hours and hours

on that stupid tree that gives him

splinters and gashes on his hands

but he trims and waters it anyways.

my stepmother is frustrated with this tree.

if you really loved your father you wouldn’t make him do this.

don’t try to apologize anymore. It’s still there.

it’s your tree.

so fix it.

but I didn’t want to fix it.

i have tried cutting it down

but the seeds are always

in my hair

between my teeth

under my nails

and flying on my breath.

but I never washed them off

because it was just too hard to watch them leave.

and so the tree only grew.

In early September of that year,

I went to the Pacific Northwest and found a tree that was

Prettier,

Nicer,

And just more suitable for me in general.

I started taking care of that one

And I left the old tree behind.

I was no longer plagued by its poison seeds

Or the hole in the center,

Dripping with wax,

Because I got angry and punched it straight through.

After nine months of

Working for hours and hours

On my new tree,

(the one that was Prettier and Nicer and just more suitable for me in general)

I let it rest for the summer

And went back home.

But as I walked in,

My throat dried hollow

And my chest was a husk,

A hole in the center,

Dripping with wax,

Because I had forgotten

That I once got angry and punched it straight through.

While I regarded this old tree as deadwood

Kinder hands tried to heal it.

While I abandoned my old self

Others were trapped with it.

I am working hours and hours now

Making my old tree pretty and nice

Making up for the hours and hours

My father

Stepmother

Sister

Mother

Brother

Worked to make it beautiful

When all I did when I was young

Was get angry and punch it straight through.

This tree had taken root in early February of the year 2000

And it only truly began to flourish

Nineteen years later

When I decided to look at it for more than a minute.

That hole in the center

Dripping with wax

Because I once got angry and punched it straight through

Is now filled

With trust and good intentions.