Stalking the lot,
Searching for the right victim,
Tall, full-figured, young.
There — that one.
The saw’s mechanized teeth,
Chew through skin,
The shredded flesh, a fountain,
Spraying in long arcs.
The severed body,
Still conscious,
Dragged across gravel,
Bound with rope,
To the top of a car,
Where it is pinned,
By its new roots,
Which prevents the wind,
From abetting an escape.
Desperate, the wounded drops pieces of itself,
A trail of needles that leads,
Up a steep driveway,
To a white house with blue trim.
The amputated trunk,
A mouth closing,
Dunked in water,
Held down.
Metal screws,
Twist into wood,
Orthodontics,
The tree tortured,
Stands straight,
Dying, dehydrated,
Decorated — twinkling lights,
Illuminate the family,
Two boys,
Mom and dad,
Singing, laughing, dancing,
In the multicolored glow,
Their shadowed faces grinning.
The kill on display,
Rots in the living room,
As the family celebrates,
At the slow funeral,
That comes this time each year.
