a midsummer storm rages / meanwhile we / cower for safety / & wait / it out / pray for calm to return / but it’s a total meltdown / a toddler hissy fit / there’s nothing we can do / to prevent these tiny fists pounding the linoleum / / when the tantrum tide / at long last / recedes / we go & check for destruction / we find it / in the form of a nearly severed branch / half the length of the yard / it hangs there ||| broken & stiff / a fresh corpse / swaying in the aftermath / prepped to pierce the ground / / we treat it like a loose tooth / finger it with our daredevil tongues / testing the boundaries / damn thing wiggles around / spins ~round~&~round~&~round~&~round~ / in its socket until we’re all merry-go-round woo-zy / but still it clutches its splintered roots / despite being told / it’s time to go // we strain our necks / in a mutual gape—awed by its massive magnitude / unsure of what to do / so, we scour the shed / & find a coiled snake in the corner / some old rope / we toss it over the limb / start to sway the thing / back-and-forth / back-and-forth / like a temporary pendulum with bark / begging the momentum to complete / this break—this work / the wind started / then promptly abandoned // we keep at it awhile / sawing through air / & eventually / we hear the wood begin to crack / we try / to guide the giant down / with grace / but we cannot / control its f a l l / mid-descent, it nicks the fence / lops the top of a plank off / & it’s not unlike / a guillotine / we watch the head drop / without expression / into the basket at our feet / & in the blink of an eye / it’s over / / now instead of the branch / we stare at this decapitated board / thinking thank god it wasn’t us / damn well could’ve been / in our reckless impatience to bring the crippled down / to its grave / in the wet grass / where it was destined to fall / someday / anyway / why is it so hard to be patient / why can’t we tolerate / suspended things—that awful state / of the / / in-between / /

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