Birch

This poem is a metaphor for a lover who acts the part of an abused person, when in reality they are the one doing the abusing, and how this psychological bullshit ruins them eventually.

I am a birch

Stark naked           and white

   between

the darker trunks with rougher skin.

A birch

naughtily wrapped

with wristlettes of thin black scab

around delicate white wrists.

All the scars you cut besmirched me--

speckled, wounded ribbons

around my supple waist.

This antique birch

that leers through the trees

and cowers from the pelting sunrays

that maligned my bark

riddled my unprotected skin

and howled me, rocking clatter-de-clack in the wind.

“Come on down, woodpecker!

From the sky, now!, buster!

Come knock me hollow!

Riddle your beak UP

and down

my trunk.

Leave me gaping,

Leave me a corridor of tunnels.

Let the ants usher

in AND out

in droves,

I hope they scuttle right through me

and carry their collections of rubbish

(all the nick-nack lies you displayed through the forest about me)

like shiny gleaming trinket SINS

They can enshrine them in my sawdust.

Leave me.

The broken husk of a once-tall birch.”

A temple of dead wood

where flaps of my dry skin peel and shudder

in the long winds of years gone by.

Let a chorus of little birds

scamper at my feet, toe the soft moss at my roots

and chirp in bluebird wreaths around my crown of twigs,

gossiping your misdeeds at my feet,

flouting your worm of deceit in their hurtful beaks,

parading your songs of abuse

like sharp petals of Hate in the sky

For everyone to see

and avoid

Like they ought to.

Dispel any niceties there might be about me

Like they ought to

Carry your wounds in the throats of loons

Like they ought to

Just for you

Far and wide

My heart of sawdust was

by design,

My broken trunk becomes a temple

to show how bitterly you broke me

by design

Author's Note

This is written from the perspective of a women who uses the perception of abuse as a shield, and so the subtle sexual metaphors are written from a female perspective, which might be confusing since I'm male. Just remember, the poem is written from a female perspective, and that might be something I need to make apparent. Any opinions?

Reviews

[Steven]

No need to make it any more apparent, it came through fine. I see a weak, frail person among those stronger, and a sort of parasite who sniffed her out, and took his fill of her (the woodpecker--although she does after all invite him). This then transforms into children born out of abuse, and are always a reminder of the abuser (unfortunately for them). It's really a fascinating allegorical story. The whole thing is musky and ripe. What I like about this style is that it forces the reader to view something they have seen before many times in a new and invading light.

[Baby Ricochet]

I liked the part about the ants. Great job.

[Lluvi]

This is very amazingly touchy poem. Well done!