This poem is taken from Stand 225, 18(1) March - May 2020.

David Sapp Three Poems
The Limb

I suppose the locust tree
garners some sympathy;
its limb, a mangled arm,
twisted and broken by a storm,
a brutish husband,
now two years past, leans
heavily upon, overwhelms
its neighbour, the wild cherry.
Such an imposition!

Is the limb gradually crushing
the cherry on one side,
an inadvertent torture,
or did the cherry always tilt
at that angle? I don’t recall.
Shall I climb precariously,
with my ladder and saw,
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