About A Dying Dogwood
By: Loukia Borrell
Two Meter Review
2021
You are near death, and this may be your last
summer standing. You are leaning hard. Father
has decided to let you fall over on your own
and then he will cut you into pieces. Not good for
firewood, he told Mother. Your wood is too soft
and will burn up too fast, he says.
The pileated woodpecker has drilled deep holes
in your trunk and your foliage is thin and brittle.
Your bark has left you; you are nude, stripped. But
I know you remember the years you felt distinguished,
like a gentleman caller. It was one spring, that
year your sturdy branch was chosen as the
place to hang the children’s swing.
