Saturday, September 30, 2017
Poem by Chris Rice Cooper - Cutting Trees
Chris Rice Cooper
she wants to be green snow
lips glistening, tongue pleading
for them to stop cutting trees,
overburdened with old despairs,
blanketed with individual snows.
some temples of god
prefer the death of trees
over burdens that do not kill trees.
she can no longer sit on a pew,
and listen to some churches of god
confuse politics with religion,
government with God’s church.
this tree cries out
from the trinity of her brain:
cerebellum, stem, cerebrum,
her brain cells broiling with gelatin tears,
blistering the remaining tofu,
sweating like great drops of blood
from Mary’s virginal secretion,
the River created by His sperm
Submerged in Mary’s egg,
only He could swim in.
now, she cries for one wish:
to hear His first cry.