Stump

Yesterday I met your assassin We exchanged greetings at my front door deadlocked behind me as usual bathroom window bolted shut Well, who’s to know? How was I to know he was a hitman? Hired to kill not just cut back, scare or restrain like the last times If I’d have known, I would’ve put up a fight That raging, uncontrollable mother’s defence when she knows it is her last chance innocent to corrupted life or death once and for all But There’s just a stump of you now Chainsaw criss-cross cuts across your upturned face open-mouthed slack-jawed shock slain mid-breath Splinters of you strewn down the stones of the path Even as far as the car park on the street You are dead nothing more can be said on the matter That is that The last tree on Easter Island felled For hours there was a pineapple sweet sawdust Slow motion softly falling all around Glitter-sprinkling the lids of wheely bins, banisters and letterboxes Onlookers, passers by or guests to these rooms flinch They cringe and look away from what’s left your remains aren’t pretty Hey, you used to be Before your throat was cut, limbs removed. dismembered and rendered: lifeless before…. you danced so graciously with the upwardly moving sky branches appreciating – constantly giving thanks you gave to this life your whole body each fibre and drop of oxygen every precious moment of it yet, the body corporate saw you as a threat. “a root system that ran too deep” they said “dangerous” “growing too fast” to keep conveniently contained I met your assassin He finished you off And there is just a stump of you now