by Brett Rutherford
Immodest, these
shivering sycamores
wiggle to Offenbach's
Orpheus in Hades
can-can, the trees'
strip-tease for all
to view. Maples
askew in their scarlet
underwear, oaks
making the wind pluck off
one leaf at a time
from their muscled
limbs, till streams
are clogged with them.
The brazen gingko
fan-dancer
sheds all its gold
pasties in one
great shrug.
And there they stand
amid the cheers and whoops
and drunk applause:
wide trunks with peeling
bark, old maple ladies
raked with lightning marks
and fungal warts, saplings
so thin and straight, no curve
to stir the loins, stick-twigs
and gnarled fingers, ring-
hungry and desperate
to be taken home, each
taking one final can-can
kick and calling out
Don't forget me, mister!
You saw me naked!
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