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Poetry & Art

Do All Trees Have Sap?

I remember the night you came home crying.

You were drunk and you’d driven an hour.

You were crying.

Your breath smelled like Spaghetti Bolognese… but you filled the sauce so heavily with wine that it smelled entirely of wine.

You couldn’t even drink your coffee or take off your shoes

and I realized feeling deeply was hereditary.

My heart

snapped

like old branches giving in.

It made me

warm then suddenly surrounded by cold water. Cracking through the ice

falling

someone took an axe to the tree you nurtured and it tore through the sky

falling

falling

the gaping hole it left was just too much

for you.

drinking coffee was like throwing stones down your throat, I watched you cry and cry. Your

tears floated midair, shot at me, then smashed into your lap. I watched each one

I promise

I checked on you seven times that night. Your door

creaked each time

and the noise made you stir. I was sorry

and

I prayed to God

 

Author: Menna Siwan
Email: mennasiwan@googlemail.com
Author Bio: feminist, artist, poet, friend.
Link to social media or website: http://mennasiwanart.com

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