The Creaking

by Mark Belair

Sounds from above deceive.

But, circling our wooded acre, I found
a dead tree fallen into a living one
and lodged there.

When the wind swayed the living tree,
the dead one creaked.

Its trunk trembling
in my hand.

And I could tell by the way the two trees
interlocked, that the dead tree
was set in the living one—
its trunk bent from the weight—
permanently.

Or at least until the living tree
itself died of rot, or dehydration,
or got felled in a hurricane, or
could simply no longer
carry the dead.