I Bear Fruit, for Open Link Night

For Open Link Night at dVerse Poets … In other news, I got a contributor’s copy in the mail today, which is always a happy time. But then my husband is reading my poem and says, “Umm, did you mean to spell yeast roll r-o-l-e?” No. No, I didn’t. For the record — since I’m billing myself as a poetry editor and all — the gremlin was at the other end. Oh, well. I know these things happen, and it’s still exciting to have the copy in hand, and it looks great other than that. I think I’ll let it go.

 

I Bear Fruit

Then I discovered that
everything I was carrying
was useless and heavy,

and I’d dropped all the
right, light things along
the way somewhere.

I didn’t know where
I was going, so I decided
to stand still for a while,

but then I became a
pear tree, one of those
stunted little pear trees

that grows around a
fence, as if the wound
has become integral,

the fence a new heart,
xylem and phloem
beating in chain link.

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13 thoughts on “I Bear Fruit, for Open Link Night

  1. dang this is nice…the things we carry and things we let drop say much…hard too when you stop to get started again, roots form and next think you know you forget there ever was a path…i really like the integration of the fence as well…the beating in chain link end is tight…

  2. Thank you! It’s interesting that you mention the ending. I had the worst impulse to add a little bit about how the tree makes flowers and fruit, the bees can get through the fence, etc., etc. That was largely because I thought people would assume I was the speaker, and I needed to add some reassurance that I really am fine. But the poem wanted to end where it did.

  3. What an intriguing way to open a poem: “Then I discovered…”–and it just keeps getting finer from there! If this poem is autobiographical, then Yes, Yes! You do bear fruit, delicious and juicy.

  4. I actually have a pear tree like that…..she made it through Hurricane Katrina although she lists sharply to the left now. She still bears wonderful fruit. I love this poem. Thanks for stopping by my blog and for your sweet words.

    • Thank you! We have a tree just like this in my neighborhood (I live in Chicago). I was interested to see that you’re in New Orleans. I was there in February — for business, though I did see some of the pre-Mardi Gras spectacle. I had never been there before — I really enjoyed it. Not that I’ve tried very hard, but I think it would be difficult to get a good Ramos gin fizz around here …

  5. I wonder if dropping what isn’t heavy (the hopes) can ease our burdens even a little… and then we don’t have any ounce of energy left to search for the old hopes or new ones!

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