by Emily Adams-Aucoin
we both realized too late that we planted the Japanese Plum tree wrong; too shallow & crooked-
but what were we going to do? tear it out of the ground?
the harm that was done was less than the harm that could have been done-
in a broken world, that’s a success. that’s something to celebrate.
we anchor the tree with every heavy thing we own; the chair that you once set on fire with your carelessness,
the bricks we tore from the mantle on that terrible night we knew for certain
we still weren’t out of the woods.
we cross our fingers during storms, watch the flowers bloom &
surrender. we don’t expect fruit; we won’t look that far into the future.
outside, the branches sway & nearly touch the ground. to our surprise,
nothing snaps.
