Burgi Zenhaeusern




April Trees


He died in October, our sadness

was fleeting, and so was the peace,

pictures in a shelved album. My father

had orphaned his anger.ā€”

 

It's April now, and somehow

they've done it againā€”stiff and spidery

limbsā€”despite the upheavals:

shocks of bloom, or timid fuzz.

 

Who knows if he hoped to avoid

his death just long enough, if

fear and pain ate his time to act.

Sadness could be found in that

 

perhaps. Except, he left

his charge with us, live wire

corralling his memory, these trees

he would have admired.




Burgi Zenhaeusern writes and translates in Chevy Chase, MD. She has been published in Gargoyle.










                                    

 

Home
Current Issue
Submissions
Contributors' Notes


Email this poem Printer friendly page

A CLOSER LOOK: Jane Shore

Indran Amirthanayagam

Nan Becker

C. Wade Bentley

Gigi Bradford on Hailey Leithauser

Patricia Davis

Stephen Devereux

Gail Rudd Entrekin

C.M. Foltz

Anton Frost

Paul Grayson

Hedy Habra

Patricia L. Hamilton

Maryanne Hannan on Suzette Marie Bishop

Donald Illich

Sonja James

Judy Kronenfeld

Hiram Larew

Jeanne Larsen

Sean Lause

Mark Mansfield

Laura Manuelidis

David McAleavey on Terence Winch

Mark McBride

George Moore

Christopher Norris

Barry North

Andrew Oerke

Al Ortolani

Jef Otte

William Page

Rebecca Parson

Beth Paulson

Patric Pepper

Simon Perchik

Heddy Reid

Oliver Rice

William Rivera

Joseph Saling

Dave Seter

Felicity Sheehy

Robert Joe Stout

Paul Tayyar

Jennifer Wallace

Robert Wexelblatt

Anne Harding Woodworth on Jody Bolz

Katherine E. Young

Sally Zakariya

Burgi Zenhaeusern

More

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

       

 

 

 

 

 


Last Updated: Feb 24, 2017 - 9:01:52 AM

Copyright 2005 - 2016 Cook Communication.