I Am Tree
My trunk is lined with stretch marks
showing where I have grown and aged
though if you cut through me you
would not see rings.
My branches of leaves are coarse
tendrils that curl and frizz
in humidity, change color
from exposure to the sun
and fall when there’s new growth
though no one is waiting to
jump into a pile of hairball.
My roots are under the surface
a network of heartstrings
flowing and rushing sometimes
showing themselves in my skin
giving me that hue of rosacea
though I am pale most of the time.
And like the old tree,
I make noise when I move or am moved.
