Last Flames.
__________
I have been taken
to see dying wiliwili trees like massive candelabras
in the crevices of the lava fields. Parasitized
(by an invasive wasp)
they hold their destroyed leaves up to the hot blue sky
as if there was some kind of hope for them
which there is not, currently.
They will defoliate again and again until
they finally die and leave fantastic gnarled shapes
standing lonely in the wind.
Around their surreal twisted bases
we find blood-red and orange seeds
which we score against the rock and toss down
where some moisture might collect
and nudge the seed into viability.
Why we do this we can't say
since any sprouting wiliwili will be speedily parasitized
but we are perhaps thinking that miracles are possible.
Maybe we just need them to be possible
for us as much as for these poetic trees
with their reptile skin and fat trunks, with their crazy arms
outstretched against the oblivious light.
