دوازدهم آپریل دوهزار و یازده

Bryce Canyon, July 2009

Everytime I think about us women
I think about the trees
I think about
the subversive trees laden in blood
but not believing
the rebellious trees encrusted
but not cracking
the abused trees wounded
but still standing
I think about the proud trees
the trees with beehive tits buzzing
the transparent trees
the trees with quinine breath hovering
the trees swaying & rubbing their
stretched marked bellies
in the rain
the crossroad trees coming from
the tree womb
of tree seeds
Trees…
“Sacred Trees” by Jayne Cortez