The day the tree died

A sunny cold day, knock on door
I’m not ready…
Door opened... 
I’m not ready…
‘ _I’m cutting the tree down’,_ she said
 _‘Cut it, sure cut it’_ they said
No space between the wall and I
I’m not ready…

The day the tree died,
Stuff, stuff, more stuff,
Twisted, woven, greens, blues, heavy, thick…
Leaves, stems, twisted, basking, flat floral rug
Elegantly poised, thick creamy, milky, carpet
Wavy, patterns, bold colours
Nice décor

The day the tree died
She went round, trousers upturned, electric blade in hand
I saw the hem…
T-shirt sleeves, scrunched up, red knobbly elbows peeking
Nice hem…
I’m not ready…

Water glass lay sideways, light brown wooden floor,
Floral rug edges, licking the water glass sides
Speckles of dry flower, sticks, stones, vase,
Stuff, stuff, more stuff,
Twisted cables, sitting on the window pane
The wall
Sucking in? spewing out?
Thick black cables

The day the tree died
Zzzz zzzz zzzz
Goes the blade
 _My Lord! It’s about to fall on her!_ 
 _Wait a minute! Is that the yellow blossom tree she’s about to cut?_ 
Sticks and stones
I’m not ready

Here is my flesh…
I’ll pop my brain, in the freezer…
I hear you,
your voice in a tunnel...
somewhere out of space
Slits of words, phrases, alphabets slitting through the heavy duty air
Aiming at me, shooting into my neck via my ear drum through my ear lobe
My head... 
Carrying it,
Stuff, stuff, more stuff 

The day the tree died
Smoke covered clay pots, sucking in
Hollow, wailing air
Umbilical cords
Sausage brain
Brewed wisdom 
Twinning, turning
Water baptised windows 
Not ready... 

The day the tree died
Body yielding, bony weight
Flapping parts,
Boils, snapping, shooting,
Grim, slimy tales, huffing and puffing
Into my skin
I’m not ready...

The day the tree died
I died...
The trunk stood....
Promising new shoots

Coventry, UK June 2020

Model/Artist: Laura Nyahuye

Wordsmith: Laura Nyahuye

Designer maker: Laura Nyahuye

Photographer: John Whitmore


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