Trevor Reeves

Trees are the
iron bars of
my world.

I am hidden as a grasshopper
clawing these tall stems
trying to bring them down.

If my perception was
the measure of these woods, tips flying
sidling across and back
below indulgent clouds, and

if my mind was iron
like the bars of my soul,

I would render even the bright sun
into shards
to escape my invisible imprisonment.

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The 2River View, 1_4 (Summer 1997)