The Wild Plum Tree
a retelling of the Grimm Brothers' fairytale the Juniper Tree


The Deep South, 1793 
When I was a girl, I was in love with the wild plum tree behind my master’s house. I marveled in the spring when it burst into beautiful white flowers, the closest thing we ever got to snow. And in the summer, I slipped away from my work to steal a yellow plum from the tree’s low branches. I’d eat it slowly,...

Part I.
I AM NOT PERFECT
Why are you blind
to my faults, flaws, and failures?
Do you only love me
for the good things that I do?
If I mess up,
will you let me go?
You know, I don't know if you know me,
if I truly have a friend.
Are you a friend to me
or are you wedded to my image?
Do you treasure me for me or for my kindness?
And you say all I...

The dog is tied up to the lightpost with her leash 
and she's straining and she straining to reach me 
But my bike wheels drift too far up to my dreams
And my head is filled with clouds and ice and lyrics that taste like poetry 

There's a foursquare court on my driveway
And a speaker that glows black and green
They ask what songs I like, I just smile slow
Cause the songs I like aren't fit for nine-year-olds
...

I breathe poetry, like
a fire in my veins, an ice in my eyes, an
echo of my days
it is my legacy, what
I will leave behind, so when
I die my words still stand,
this little light of mine.