Stillicide

I have no dreams

A tree fell and crushed the taut strings

Outside the gate

A figure at the same place

Picks at the tar and waits for my house

His gasping question

How long will you survive?

After rain, stillicide drips from the roof

Into his old tin cans

I don't see where he takes water

A paste, crushed leaves and spit

Is brought out

And painted on him, straining

I have no dreams

From the roof I hear him scream

The fishing lines that held me up

Are caught under the tree

I hope it rains enough to rot it quickly