Dishes

 The tree is bleeding         
         my husband says

eyes wide--
wider
than when our oldest
broke his collarbone
into a tent.

I leave the sink
faucet running

to see
              what he sees.

The tree is
bleeding.

There--

the bark                splits

the sap

        drips--

No--            
                      dripped--

as if mother nature paused
             mid-sentence                            
between laundry                      
                                and dishes

            to care                                      
                            for another one
of her children.

---

Marcy Beller Paul (she/her) is an author and former editor. She graduated from Harvard University and lives in New Jersey with her husband and two children. Her novel, Underneath Everything, was published by Balzer + Bray, an imprint of HarperCollins, and her poetry has appeared in Blood Tree Literature. ​