Talk Like Trees
Parking lot, Delaware County Behavioral Health Building, October 12, 2022
I worry about
the mostly dead maple being
Swiss cheesed by
proud pileated woodpeckers.
&
our Honda’s grinding squeal and
if it might heal.
&
porting my cell number
from Straight Talk to Mint Wireless.
I worry about
sketch of life haikus being
16 & 18 syllables long.
&
the mass deaths of swimming crabs
on Zanzibar beaches.
&
the world’s uncontrollable
unraveling around us.
I worry about
our children’s existence
without us.
&
this hallelujah holy roller handshake deal
we’ve consummated with our Creator.
&
a time when our collective
health fails.
I worry about
you being taken before me and
solo sunsets without the
heavenly blissful whispers
of your song’s smile.
Who’ll name the
stars for me?
Who’ll protect me from
gravity’s pull?
Who’ll hold silvery
twilight seances to recall me?
Who’ll save me from
me?
Fingertips swoosh across
the back of my hand.
Instantly turning,
yearning,
my heart melts into
the warmth of
your loving palm.
Mindful mingling fingers
mesh to create an enduring
dovetail joint.
We talk like
trees.
All I worry about
vanishes.
This moment is
now,
us & beautiful.
Ken Dukes Jr. was born in New York City and resides in Davenport, New York, with his wife and two children. After a three-decade career in telecommunications, Ken retired in 2019 and enrolled at SUNY Oneonta. He expects to graduate in 2025 and plans to resume a Masters in Pastoral Studies at St. Bernard’s College of Theology and Ministry. Ken practices zazen, mediation, yoga, and is a volunteer minister. Reading is his refuge.