A Burnt Tree

When it was too hot instead of too cold

Carbonized Tree on the Desert Stove

A Burnt Tree

you discover your own body
right in front of you
like a burnt tree

you move
like concrete in a saucepan
wishing for
the open windows of youth
with spotted winds
fluttering by like confetti

you long for
elasticity, pulling, beading
you’d give a lot
for an earthquake
just to get moving
sidewalks shaking
bone bridges shuddering

you never gaze
at passing birds
lest their facility
open canyons of yearning
in your tightening limbs

the sky is still open
and without valence
arching over you
like a bed on the ceiling