Why I have planted a tree for every anniversary

She said she found her calling stronger
Dancing on attic rafters.
I asked, once, who would catch her
While she conducted pirouettes
On the top branches of the felled pine in my backyard.

She spun
and spun
Harnessing nothing but wind
To court my advances and framings.

Once, we’d talked about
Flying or reaching heights together.
I wanted nothing more than to see her soar higher.

When things went south, I took an ax
And brought branches within grasp.
She frowned,
And said nothing could be a gift when it took away life.

A pointed look at the pastor.

He would shuffle uncomfortably,
His spirituality stealing with an awkward lack of grace
The side-steps you mastered with ease.

Nothing was easy after that.

Today, I ride the bus alone
To a job selected solely for its ability
To steal my creativity.
I have put my wand away and I conduct no movements
Since you were whirled beyond reach.

Each day I return home
To treads in the attic dust,
I find your threads on rafters
And hang them in the front yard for the wind to tangle.

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