The Frosting in Tatters

A double-tiered
illusion: green ombre

petaling, silence’s

white curtain.

The hand, real
as ever: motions the knife,
peels birds screaming.

Then our guests.

Shagbark hickory,
shagbark hickory,
its pare and curl—

Such bloody recognition
I didn’t mean—
but stories erupt,
partial, near perfect:
Here, here—
split acres of grove.

Stacie Leatherman is the author of two books of poetry: Stranger Air (Mayapple) and Storm Crop (BlazeVOX).

Published March 7 2022