If you plant a tree too close to the house
and it grows for several years, ten, fifteen feet,
but it’s not doing so well either—
the leaves are crinkly and thin—there are too
many bare twigs—the only thing you can do
is cut it down. I never really liked it
anyway. I tell my friend I want to grow closer
to You, to surrender to You, but dying
is too tedious in fact, morning after morning,
and sometimes I’m so afraid.
I’d much rather fire up the chainsaw and bite
into those branches, one by one.
Clear out the space. Sawdust
flying.