today we will discuss how trees handle the emotion of
feeling uncomfortable in their roots.
when they are moving with the wind,
are they swaying to the rhythm of past ghosts,
are they swaying because they’re slow dancing,
or are they swaying because is it a plea for help
masked by a charismatic beautiful gesture?
can what appears to be breathing on the outside already have
decayed on the inside? i am afraid this is a metaphor for you.
i am afraid you might be hollow. i reached deep into your
heart and presumed i would find some forest animals,
maybe some chipmunks and foxes, maybe frogs
croaking by the riverside. i only found emptiness.
today we will describe the tools that dentists use to
scrape the plaque off our teeth. let’s write about the sound,
the eerie feeling, how the way that our mouths stretch open
mirrors third grade smiles. we can discuss sensory integration,
or the overwhelming feeling of vacancy between
each tooth after the cleanse,
or even the moment our teeth crunch into a mouth guard of
fluoride and how it’s a metaphor for how we wish
the fluoride will protect more than just
our teeth, more than our own
bodies, or is that just me?
did you know that a tree hollow is also a cavity?
i am also afraid you are more than just cavities
i am afraid that you may have a wooden heart.
we can discuss the dependency between amount of
pain felt and the strength of our gums, for that is the only pain
we will ever directly discuss here at the poet’s circle.