Three Faces Of The Old Oak on Maple Ridge Lane

Radislav Drobnik wiped his face with a kerchief
and looked out onto the furrows;
the pale and growing things peeked out and
up at the sun from their little burrows.
Hot, too hot, he thought-he-thought,
and went to plant the seeds of shade.

The Man from Down South had a secret name,
and when they caught him and brought him
to the tall oak tree on a dead foreigner’s land,
his last moments were fists and hate and

“Will you love me forever?” she asked, as
the knife slid through the old oak tree:
S.N. + J.M.K ’78.
“Of course, of course, as long as I
can think, I will think only
of loving you.”

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