I tried to write a poem about
a tree—just a tree. But that tree
grew towards a metaphor with thorns
for leaves. Every time I tried to cut
it down, it only rooted more into
intangibility, twisting around in
dark soil for words heavier than
empty bones. I even tried giving
it water, but some ghosts are always
drowning. Their hands shake, and the
tree, no longer a tree, reaches
out to steady them.
Tia Cowger is a graduate of Eastern Illinois University. A poet at heart, her work has been published in Eastern’s literary journal The Vehicle, Toe Good, Gone Lawn and others.