Register Tuesday | June 18 | 2019

End/Again

A poem

Trees will back
into essence.

Trees will back
into essence.

Trees will back
into essence;

trees will back
into essence.

My mother’s home in which, as a child,
she sat perhaps at sun transfixed, dying
beyond a hill, for the first and only time.

First and only time beyond a hill for the
dying, transfixed sun, she sat perhaps
as a child at my mother’s home in which

for the first and only time
dying
as a child

beyond a hill
she sat perhaps at sun transfixed.