PoetryAloud

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Carl Sharpe Reads

The Sister Tree

you pulled me most of the way home
by the ear when I would not stay in line
you were a safety patrol leader and had
an arm band like the nazis wore

and once you shut my fingers in the door
when I would not let you close it

but you played beethoven on the piano
and you were beautiful and had
more friends than I ever did

and somewhere in the middle of your
five children came coffees when we
told each other secrets like children
and laughed about sibling things

when you died, we planted a tree in the yard
and we watched it grow years without you

and this winter the new owner trimmed it
with strings of white christmas lights
and as I drove by in the bark black night
I tugged on my ear and wept
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