"Soon, Almost Anything Will Seem True" basil payne

—which is why I keep quiet.

The small forest where I grow

what should happen, which

is really just what I want

to happen. Like anything,

this could burn, too.

⯀

I watched

a documentary about forests.

Reminded me of dad too much.

The planting after clear cuts,

all new so the trees grow identical.

Same height, same everything.

And walking through it reminds

me that I didn’t grow fast

enough. Made small by a thousand

mirror-image trees.

⯀

Mom, the burns.

Not prescribed. Too late to fix

any of that. Desolate with the exact

kind of height—upright or horizontal:

star gazing. This could’ve been avoided.

But it grew and grew until nothing grew

but flames.

⯀

I’m not much of anything

yet. After mom—10 shots, she howled

like a wind storm and threw

a lamp that night—I held the cone seeds

in my palms and clenched tight. Not

a replacement for soil. I’m only

buying time until there’s a pattern

in the trees, one to avoid or burn.

basil payne (they/them) is a queer poet-artist who can be found in Logan, Utah's trees. Their work can be found in Sugar House Review, Sheepshead Review, Oyster River Pages, and occasionally Utah State University's Projects Gallery.