CONFESSIONS OF AN OAK

I cannot control the amber sins that

flush from my body of bark.

I will not comment on the gentle,

hungry hummingbird who

drinks my soul-sap.

I could not unstick the curious

blue-bottle who landed

for a rest

with all good intentions,

in the heart of my trunk.

I am unable to compete

with Grand Sugar Maple,

who lives and presides

over the cul-de-sac,

It seems this culprit

enjoys their sticky output.

I admit, own up, fess up even

that I can do bad but also can do good.

I insist that my honey is useful

in fact, I need it to be so.

I fossilise, I gladly share nourishment

in my time-weathered roots,

I will repent and be made anew.

My internal, eternal sap is leaking,

It smothers my saplings, stunts their growth.

They too will have to learn their make-up

and blame me in due course.

Yes, people have sat

in the curves and grooves of my body,

blameless. I am tall enough to cast blue-grey shadows

as they spread out their picnics.

Yet I feel as though I am still but a sapling myself, grown too big.

Each day I reach farther away from my mother tree.

Sweet, soft liquid body breaks through bark. I cannot stop my sugar rush.

On my sleeve I wear my heart. If I grew fruit, it would drop rotten, ten out of nine times.

They bruise as they grow. I take up space, I limit the space of others.

I apologise, I leak. Please, do you still love me?

---

Jessica Lees, 21, Birmingham - UK ✯ IG: @artthingbyjess

“Jessica Lees is a contemporary practicing artist concerned with themes of interconnection, particularly how this manifests within nature and natural spaces. Through her poetry she explores how we can translate the untranslatable, ethereal and intangible feelings and experiences often associated with nature into the written word. In her work she aims to demonstrate the clunky and imperfect translation of thought and feeling into language.”