Erica Goss

Zero Hour

 
“On the last day of the world I would want to plant a tree.”

                                    -- W.S. Merwin

A tree bleeds, sweet / raw materials / food / shelter / heat /

stand in front of a tree for a long time / smell its breath /

a tree is not your imaginary friend / bad seed / was here before you / all trees

had difficult childhoods / were indifferent parents / cannot grow up alone /

a tree intervenes with the landscape / doubts nothing /

is not about something / feeds on ash / its burnt children

a tree is a variation on the line / works within its limitations / grows toward

solitude / is more accepted as it gets older /

a tree is nonverbal but not silent / is not an honorary person /

a problem exists between people & trees /

a tree is an organization / a meeting that never ends /

an invitation to engage / an orchestra / a book / a pile of matches

a tree is site-specific / cannot stroll, saunter or play /

is generous with its seeds / has no luggage / makes do /   

a tree must make new friends when it is very old / defends itself /

builds galls / twists & curls / resprouts / does not acknowledge failure /

a tree will never lie to you / lets you cut it / drive a car through it /

carve a den in it / climb inside

Erica Goss is the author of Night Court, winner of the 2017 Lyrebird Award from Glass Lyre Press. Her flash essay, "Just a Big Cat," was one of Creative Nonfiction's top-read stories for 2021. Recent and upcoming publications include The Georgia Review, Oregon Humanities, Creative Nonfiction, North Dakota Quarterly, Spillway, A-Minor, Redactions, Consequence, The Sunlight Press, The Pedestal, San Pedro River Review, and Critical Read. Erica served as Poet Laureate of Los Gatos, California, from 2013-2016. She lives in Eugene, Oregon, where she teaches, writes and edits the newsletter Sticks & Stones.