This is a tree
In the backyard of an apartment
In Jamestown, New York
In which an eleven year old boy sits
Silently considering
The sounds of the cars driving past
A man yelling for his dog
The ommm of a distant lawnmower
The smell and smooth feeling of damp tree bark
How his thoughts and feelings
have become unspoken sentences
How the images of the past have lost detail
How his anger tightens the skin of his face
How the blood hums in his ears
How his toes push against the end of his tennis shoes
How it might feel to fall face first from the tree
Or fly away over the house
And the people hidden inside
Higher and higher
Until everything had grown small with distance
And so much quieter
Until even the words in his head would be silent
Then he would let go
Then he would fall