Fall 2007 Issue

"Tree, the big, very old one in the middle of campus" by Natalie Rokaski

Tree, the big, very old one in the middle of campus is where I sit.  I sit facing the old tree, and I stare at the big tree—

I stare until I no longer see the tree. 

Roots become a pack of dogs fighting over a carcass.  Can’t see their faces.  Just their bodies, and their ripe hunger.  Their rough bark.  Chewing, choking, gulping marrow from the bones of time.  When we cut of their heads, how many rings will we see?  When we cut off their paws, how old will they be?

A phrase or two trickles down my mossy brain, like yellow lightfilters through green leaves—

I again stare until I forget me.

Looking leafward: knots resemble leopards.  They’re running to the seam of the sky, learning which among them can first reach the end of the world.