NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT
by Kristina England
I hate pedestrians that walk jay-like
across the street and don't
have enough neck to look both ways.
I hate the sound of the train
motoring down the rail near my house,
shaking us trees from our roots.
I hate that I'm not really a tree,
that I am a human pretending to be a stream
but always running
the wrong way from men,
more a rock wall,
a mile of boundaries.
I wonder what nature thinks of
all this hoo-ha, this buzzing around of limbs,
brains humming with technology,
these beings
not harmless enough
to call bees.
Gyroscope Review - !37