I Am a Dead Tree

I died on the battlefield,

a simple affair you see.

No taps were played,

no triangulated flag.

Not a normal death of course

just a mind thing

like closing a coffin door

inside my head.

Sounds of bombs and rockets

muted then silenced

soldiers’ lips mouthing screams,

I was frozen like winter grass

In February.

They brought me home

full honors with a six-pack salute.

I’m planted now beneath a window,

a tree growing

in our living room

I love when they water me.

My grandson pees on me,

occasionally the dog.

My days are surely numbered

leaves are falling from my arms.