New Leaf

JAMES CORNELIUS

I haven't got the ancestors
           I always thought I’d had.
They vanished with a paper
          The health department sent.

I’ve since picked up some new ones
           Healthier than the first,
And see that no one isn’t
   	  my brother from the first.

This tree was spawned without my
 	   seeking branch or roots;
My artificial family
           had sustained me to my boots

until I walked off barefoot
            through a paperless clean field,
trying to forget myself –
 	    but I couldn’t: I’d been detailed

by God to sibling every tree.
   	    Of none do we have a photograph,
of none is there a letter.

            Would handwriting or eyes’ aspect
            relate them to me better?

                             Picture any in an old ball yard,
  		   	                bleachers faded sepia 
  		             and the lad out in left field
  		 	                relates to us somehow.

             Is that where they entertain
             themselves, as I choose to do?

Or do they shoot crows, fight
    	    cocks and dogs and strip old tires
         into toys for the gritty little stripped-down infant,
            sent out for adoption?

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Twisted River Review ~ Issue 1: Winter 26/27