i hereby name the tree with the pretty smell by diana elba
i. what you want to hear because poetry can’t be childish if you are twenty years old
a seventy-eight year old woman wearing white gloves is named elba and today she walked past the tables outside of liz’s asked if i spoke spanish and told me there was a big tree standing where diana stands today years ago and that the little shade giver i was sitting under has the same smell as the old one so it must be her daughter she said one seed must have escaped and then she was born said her own parents had ten escaped seeds ten little kids and that she has had ten heart attacks one heart aching clenching breaking and healing one for each child and obviously one for herself said do you know what keeping busy does to someone she said the same as ten children and then surviving that number she encouraged me to sit under this tree every afternoon and enjoy her smell said it was good for the heart and i think i trust that she knows what is good for the heart
ii. the first things i wrote without an explanation of what actually happened because elba reminded me of my grandmother and i felt like a child again and children are not in the business of explaining what actually happened even though they would be much better than any of us
this building was once a tree
who was once a mother
and now this building
who in its birthing took away life
can share a life with her daughter
diana and elba are sisters
who do not like to hold hands
they are ashamed of being different
from each other and from the world
but unafraid we have named them
one gives us shade and good smell
the other fills minds and bellies
i don’t know which i prefer
buildings can dance if not looking
trees don’t exist less you do
sway in the wind little elba
diana will hold her tongue
carve your name on old beginnings
begin again when you wish
i will guard your shade if you’re dancing
guard your roots if you change your leaves
i will hold your doors open for you
so you too can dance summer breeze
summer solstice i will be longing
to belong in four empty hands
wear white gloves to the ball this evening
and the wind will ask for a dance