Joseph Salvatore Aversano

The Useless Tree

after Zhuangzi

I am just one of the trees in the wood in our first-grade theater production of Little Red Riding Hood. There is a brown paper shopping bag over my head with eyeholes and glued-on leaves. In the play script, my part is listed as ‘TREE’ followed by a colon and then words. But I don’t actually say anything, at least not of my own volition. I am at best a medium for the wind. Little Red Riding Hood comes along and asks for the way to her grandmother’s place. And on cue, the wind stirs and just happens to toss one of my branching arms in the right direction. ‘Wooooooooo. That way.’

much too
gnarled
in

twist
&

knot
to

not
be

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About the Author

Joseph Salvatore Aversano, a native New Yorker, lives on the Central Anatolian Steppe with his wife Asu. Some of his more recent poems have been published in Die Leere Mitte, NOON: journal of the short poem, and Otoliths. He is the founding curator of Half Day Moon Press and editor of its new journal.

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