by Kenneth Pobo
High school, a hallway
that shrank until it enclosed you
completely — a coffin.
No hallway pass could save you.
Only a tree could. Any tree.
They broke through the coffin
to lift you out.
No wonder to this day I hug trees.
In “Draggin’ The Line,” Tommy James
suggested doing that. They hug back,
leaf kiss you,
a little forward, yes,
as shade soothes.
Since high school I keep
trees close by. If I get lost, a birch
finds and sends me
in the right direction. Today
it’s raining, but I’m going out
to visit some trees. I need a hug.
They do too.
Kenneth Pobo is the author of twenty-one chapbooks and nine full-length collections. Recent books include Bend of Quiet (Blue Light Press), Loplop in a Red City (Circling Rivers), and Uneven Steven (Assure Press). Opening is forthcoming from Rectos Y Versos Editions. Lavender Fire, Lavender Rose is
forthcoming from Brick/House Books.
