It falls from my binder,
cherry crayon streaks
ripen in sun, LOVE RILEY—
a valentine from my son,
three weeks before he died,
cutout paper once a tree,
before its felling,
and reduction to pulp.
I pick up the heart,
hold it like a seed I’ll save
to grow an oak.
I couldn’t answer
his question,
Mommy, does paper
remember being a tree?
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 21, Issue 1.
See all items about Chanel Brenner