Tree’s Lament

Southern trees bear a strange fruit

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root

Back bodies  swinging in the southern breeze

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees

Bone of my bone,
Your flesh is a part of me
And we grow in, in, in
Until we are indistinguishable.

My leaves are stained
The same color as your lips
And I wonder if you drank from me.

You are welcome to.
A fruit i did not bear
But one that was born unto me

I do not know your name,
Just how your head is cradled into my bark
And how your limp branches
Oscillate like mobiles.

And son, I’ll teach you
To exhale oxygen.

I do not know your name,
Only the peculiarity
Of eyes bulged like
Strange fruit.

And son,
I am arms outstretched and aching for you

And son,
I am tears like stains of berries

And I am sorry
That you had to rest your head here
Before you made it home