I will tell you about a tree
That never grew.
It is finding blood
To make its dream come true.
It wails at night
Imploring a sacrifice.
Till it knits a trap
And a murder is planned.
A thing alive wants to take a stroll
Dreaming with half-open eyes as black as coal.
Till it snaps a twig with a giddy strut
And a mystical branch stabs it in the gut.
Blood is shed
That turns the soil red.
The tree raises its brow
It never grows, instead a fox comes and greedily devours.
Submitted by Urvi Sirkek, third year undergraduate in the English Department. You can contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org
[This poem was first published on Urvi’s blog- kiltastories.wordpress.com]