Stump by Jaeyun Yoo

Stump

branches with inflamed apples

sag over the backyard fence

I leave a metal pail beside your shoes

one week later still

a folded ladder

buried in red rot

I sift through the tree for answers

aphids, fire ants, no fruit

I bite midway into a kiss

your slug of tongue

the parting scarcely saved

by a thin spit trail

this for three more years

until a bear discovers our unkempt garden

mauls our flea-bitten dog

the city forces us to chop down the tree

we pass the hatchet back and forth

- previously published in Grain (47.3, Spring 2020)