“[once there was a tree]” by Erik Fuhrer
[once there was a tree]
only one tree because the world had ended already (it was nuclear war it was the nuclear charge of the nuclear body that shot its dust into the sun it was the climate that never stayed static but whatdoyouknow actually burned way too hot one day because all the bees died because of our nuclear honeymoon because of our swigging of honey because we never gave a shit about bodies that did not walk upright) the world had ended and the last body alive had to produce bodies so it produced a whole colony of bees from its ears, nose and throat and not before it had produced a flower from its spine (an orchid I believe) and that's not before a new sun had blossomed from its lips and not before its body itself became that tree that one last tree as its feet rooted into the ground and eyebrows sprouted leaves that were more voluptuous and hairy than any leaf you have ever seen before and then these leaves produced a whole population of slugs and worms and apples and pears and also a lot of tiny woodmites and then of course me at 36 I came last and I am not a voice not a word not a larynx not a squirrel I am that which opens when you knock it that which is forever 36 until I am only a memory of ash
Erik Fuhrer is a PhD and MFA candidate in English and poetry at the University of Notre Dame. His work can be found, or is forthcoming, in BlazeVox, Riggwelter, Dream Pop Press, Noble/Gas Qrtrly, and various other venues.