Two Poems by Nathan Coates
/Maple Tree in September
The young maple tree on the corner
undressed in mid-September
at fall’s first freeze,
so eager to perform,
and now it stands knock-kneed
and bare, a gray spine
in a pool of perfect red and white leaves,
mute like Zechariah
burning with Elizabeth’s story,
or like a lone banjo player on stage
chasing the haunting notes
of an unsung lyric.
It waits like Barney Fife
to tell Andy
he already shot
his allotted bullet.
It’s a burnt match.
And I know that feeling,
of words spoken out of season–
spent and irretrievable,
within reach and inaccessible,
red with the regret
of being exposed and left leafless
while summer is still singing.
A Maple Tree Reflects
Here I am,
tricked by a September anomaly
into a premature abscission,
a skinny coat rack, now,
with no privacy for fall’s
remaining wrens.
It’s true that
all these leaves,
perfectly piled at my feet,
look like Schroeder’s
dust cloud or
like confetti that exploded
before an overturned buzzer beater.
What can I say?
To be honest...
I’m like a pinata
that gives up the goods
on the first hit
and then dangles,
twisting, for the rest of the party,
in Ohio’s leftover summer breath,
enduring the leafed grins
of neighboring trees
in their blue suburban lawns.
But I see the way
you can’t help but
come and touch these
red and white leaves–
dropped in perfect color–
like you’re reaching for
stolen jewels or the
hem of the rabbi’s robe.
Author’s Note: These poems started with a simple image that I found arresting so I kept experimenting with different ways to describe it. Eventually, I started thinking from the tree’s perspective and had to split all of the ideas into two poems and narrow from there.
Nathan Coates lives in Lebanon, Ohio, with his family and spends his days helping high school students read and write. These are the first poems he’s sent out into the world.
