“This movie stands stubbornly alone…”
A.O. Scott, reviewing Terrence Malick’s “The Tree of Life”
A sapling, reaching up, ambitiously
Obscures the Clearview Cinema’s marquee
And ripples green across the title’s rubric.
There’s something there by Hitchcock. Or by Kubrick?
With pink or scarlet flowers it might pose a
Problem, but it’s locust, not mimosa.
Enough is visible for us to see
That we would rather stand and watch the tree.
Les I thought of more than was his share.
Mark was stuck back where he left his ex.
Neil found me the answer to a prayer.
Norman wasn’t keen on either sex.
Gil may never, ever breathe a word.
Mike said he would help my voice be heard.
Guy was ordinary. Hugh was bright.
Bill sent letters full of urgent claims.
Harry never let me end a fight.
Darling—let’s forget your other names.
Meredith Bergmann is a sculptor currently working on the FDR Hope Memorial for Roosevelt Island, NYC. Her poems and criticism have appeared in Barrow Street, Contemporary Poetry Review, Iambs and Trochees, Lavender Review, Per Contra, The New Criterion, The Same, Umbrella, and the anthology Hot Sonnets. She is poetry editor of American Arts Quarterly.