The Ornament
I would hang deep in the Christmas tree
Close to the trunk like a tumor too close
To the spine to remove an ornament only
I knew was there like a tattoo that means
Too much to show anyone or a poem
You burn upon writing but one year I forgot
To take the ornament off before we took
The tree down and so had to go out to the pasture
We’d dragged it into and reach in through
Rusting needles to where it still hung
On one of the inner boughs like someone
Who reaches into the coffin at the last instant
Unable to bear watching the ring they gave
The dead go into the earth