The elm bark beetles’
contagion
cracked branches
ate top
to root
No one spoke
except to mourn the tree
each day browner
I hid
in maple, boiling sap
plugging the drain
with syrup, smelling lilac
saying: here’s the birch
remember: it’s just an elm
I buried my fist
in dying wood
Upstairs, the voices
did not stop rising
Bark splintered
fell
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Beatiful