Recovering
here in a forest of hemlock and ash
a white pine grows crooked around a 15-foot boulder
looking like a self-portrait
as it curves into its dissertation on grief
the anniversary of the accident
stored soundlessly in the cells of my body
there is still some green in the grass
beneath the snow
deciduous trees bared to sticks
tremble at this banquet of interrupted promises
sometimes whispered face-down in the dirt
sometimes face-up to the dizzying arc of the night sky
I read somewhere how quickly a forest could reclaim
a city without us
ALISON PRINE’s debut collection of poems, Steel (Cider Press Review, 2016) was named a finalist for the 2017 Vermont Book Award. Read more.