killed. neverending, this story
of that tree. bark rough. like a grandmother’s
apology, open hands, soft white
mouths of kittens, purring,
perfume. young and angry, yet
for a pet
who was buried by the roots
who fed
some loss
to its power
and sprawl. under our family. above us
it held off the sun
heat waved and it drank up
our water, we lost we
lived—like sweat in its grip. broken a
part by a chainsaw, the magnolia
fell, in pieces. away from the house
for the nerve thrown beneath
it would’ve killed the foundation. of our
littlecity. house built on wood. i was
sorry, so sorry
but not for that tree
but to lose
what i’d lost
before, beneath. in the dirt where something
something small, but you loved
it was breaking a part
NOOR is a poet trying to live in the world—currently in West Philly. she thinks the truth exists. she's a fellow of Callaloo and The Watering Hole. her work has been/will soon be published by Muzzle, DIAGRAM, ANMLY, and others. her chapbook, PRAISE TO LESSER GODS OF LOVE, was published by Glass Poetry Press in 2019.