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A Tree You Shouldn’t LoveFor National Poetry Month, Creative Loafing Tampa Bay asked Dennis Amadeus, who leads The GrowHouse Collective based in Ybor City, Florida, to help us reach unsung poets. We asked them to write about trees—any trees—and they responded.
After the storm, I looked out the window
Squinting, sort of trying to sneak up on what I might see
If I took it by surprise, the damage couldn’t be too bad
But my eyes widened at the violent wreckage of branches
The view from my window transformed into a sea of green leaves
Nothing visible but the death of this once proud tree,
The carnage narrowly missing my roof
Arborists must make the most money after a hurricane
Nervous homeowners making calls, fearing for their property
When the arborist came to my house,
He signed the death certificate for two trees,
The wrecked one out back, and the one with the dangerous lean in the front
They needed a crane to lift someone up to that one
To slice it into pieces from the top down
Sections of trunk disappearing one by one until it was gone
While I mourned these trees, the arborist took a look around the side of the house
His eyes fastened on my pride and joy: a stately oak
Towering over the neighborhood,
Shooting branches off in every direction
Shading my house from the predatory sun
The arborist inspected it and said it had to go
Said it would fall on my house one day
I held foolish tears in my eyes and said,
“But I love that tree.”
He said, “That’s not a tree you should love.”
I didn’t tell him that I love all trees and especially this one,
That all trees should be loved even if they could kill us
Was I testing fate when I sent the man home,
Knowing his prediction could come true?
Eighteen months later, am I still testing it,
Loving this tree even as it creaks toward the day of my demise?
It would be a fitting end,
To be destroyed by the very thing my species is so intent on annihilating
While capitalism clear-cuts forests, would it make a difference
To let this one old tree slash through my house and take me down with it?
There are worse ways to go, and I love this tree too much
To give it an early end
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