A romantic realist such as Thoreau
or a magical realist such as Garcia-Marquez,
unable to fend off fate
or rain
might say to a tree
thank you for allowing me to ****** you
to put a roof over my mortal head.
To which a cynical but congenial tree,
as valuable as a metaphor
as it is as a roof beam, might reply,
that though I, with my brothers and sisters
gave you every breath you’ve ever breathed
you murdered me for momentary expediency
and possess the audacity  
to write your poems on my dead skin.
Well, breathe as long as you can,
you romantic **** ant fool.
I’ll be a roof beam a hundred more years.
You’ll be nothing more than evaporated tears.

Larry Schug