A TREE AT PENTRE IFAN
— Danielle Gennaro
Massive stones stand
en pointe as my spine
curves. I play in this
neolithic ballet,
my body, shaped by thousands
of seasons of violent winds,
the stones and I, we perfect
our poses, performing for
the raucous applause of
a Pembroke sky,
stood in a frozen dance for
millennia, different types of
mysteries—my trunk slanted, and
you: a remain-less burial ground.
And though the sky tends to valleys
questioning our invisible histories,
no one had to see the wind to trust
that a tree can grow sideways from the earth.