J e n n i f e r   M a r t e l l i

 

Heaviness

 

The wet snow split the Japanese cherry tree in half 

and that broken half landed on my car in the driveway. 

 

Later, the town’s tree guy came with a chainsaw 

and sawed that poor half tree into bits, with its innards all splayed and white. 

 

We both smoked a cigarette from my pack. 

Then he hoisted his chain and chainsaw and told me not to hope for blooms in spring. 

 

He didn’t have to tell me that he’d fathered only girls, though he did. 

I knew before he spoke of his plight. 

 

You know how? I wanted him so bad, 

I wanted him so bad to like me. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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 Issue 79: Bitter Root

guest editor: Sara Biggs Chaney

The Note

Kelly Fordon

Jennifer Martelli

Katie Longofono

Afterword

 

 

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