It stands
making
some kind of defiant disclosure.
Trousers of stark, cold black if stripped, a stark,
cold impotency
of a fifty foot inhale.
Choked right at halfway
cause it gives nothing back
in air time.
Limbs just wail
and fall from an afternoon breeze.
Brought back by the chestnut
bark, and green tea leaves
of many splendor, sporadically
bench warming the space.
Surrounding
the ugly duckling
these gladiators of light
and elements
are proud when healthy.
Claiming a right
to be like a leaning tower of Pisa
until fully zapped
of any more chlorophyll blood.
Not causing
the whole scenario
to be ruled by a closed vision
of taking up useless space.
Or just dropping
nicely into number two pencils
one by one,
as if they were leaves
in transition.