The branch I’d been eyeing all summer
tumbled to the ground in the wet wind
late August’s storm blew in from the west.
A straight branch, good for shaping.
Unaltered yet, I’ve left it to dry on the porch
while we wait for autumn to yield winter’s
victory over the green and gushing. Turning
away, turning to the door as Janus at the crossroads
ready for a deal. In my dream a queen of red soil
heard me say, Queerness is a long thread of hurt.
She took my empty hands and said,
Now what will you mend with that thread?
Love is the story you tell about it. Let me tell you
of a wind that so loved the tree it cut it down to shreds.
–
Sage received their M.F.A. in creative writing from Saint Mary’s College of California. Their poems appear in North American Review, The Rumpus, Pittsburgh Poetry Review, Penn Review, Foglifter Journal, and elsewhere. They live in Massachusetts.