An old Russian olive tree
adjacent to the garage
had these branches
that grew up over the roof,
a species that has silver leaves
that kind of glow in moonlight
It was the same tree that Dad
had threatened to cut down
to keep my older sister
from windowing to freedom
out of the upstairs bedroom
we shared, when the moon
was a big white globe
and the crickets chanted her down
"No Daddy, please!" I protested
and he relented,
Understanding every living thing
had a soul to me
being the female chip
off the old block that I was

Sis was eight years my senior
and according to tradition,
a wild thing free-spirited
from the womb
despite a private education
As penance for my contribution
to the delinquency of a minor,
having intervened
in the sentence of death
on that symbol of deliverance,
Mom gave me the duty
of apprehending love letters
from under Che's mattress,
the ones from the same boy
whose footprints
she had scooped out of the snow
that previous winter
and then placed in the freezer
Yes, such was her passion
for Daniel, the love of her life

This was to be a breech of trust
never forgotten
and revenge was visited on me
in various ways through the years,
despite my sister's fierce love for me
She said it was my interference
that put an obstacle between true love,
Mom forbidding her to see him again
after reading those pages
I found their prom pictures
and dance book yellowed with age
as was Che's corsage,
the dried remains of an orchid
with a pearl pin that pricked my finger
and drew blood,
in a box on the top shelf
of the upstairs closet--
whose inside door is still decorated
with the round romantic script
of my sister's handwriting
declaring her love in ink
Oh he was a handsome boy,
tall with chiseled features
and Che was a genuine beauty
in her beehive hairdo
and gold brocade prom dress
Two years later, after graduation,
Dan went off to be a Marine, I think
 
What put me to remembrance
was that same olive tree
wildly overgrown and needing a trim
I asked my brother Gordon
to do the deed
and before I could stop him
he took the chain saw and severed
the tree from it's trunk
"God I feel like a murderer!"
 he boomed
being another chip off the old block
"I just wanted the branches cut back!"
I yelled, feeling like Judas
after having given the kiss of death
To make an long story-poem
short, that olive tree trunk
has been sending out shoots like crazy
On those branches
are half-inch spines that have gotten me
good on more than one occasion,
pricking me to bleed when unaware
The lumber harvested from Ol' Russian,
the grain being fine and beauteous,
has since become a dining table
by my brother's hand
They say that life is linear
but I believe it's as circular as that moon

(c) Linda Gayton 2006