It may be dramatic
to suggest they be burned
but faith is a fragile
articulation.
A phoneme here or there
and you are haunted by a wraith
or tested by your fate
or drowned in the fake.
Let your face relax.
The tighter your nose whiffs
the more likely the skunk
will find your toes.
There is no prescription
for utterly pure belief.
No number of sheafs
could describe this maple's grief.
Syrup has been boiled down
and every leaf remembers
every drop of blood
from tree brothers in harm
sailed to a place
give no grace
ashen on the bottom
close to shore.
Roman Ryan 