If a forest falls and no one is there

to catch it. If there is a last tree, last leaf.

If clear-cutting lacks clarity. If I am an accessory

to murder. If a conditional sentence

never finishes combing its hair. If a glacier dies

in Alaska. If a glacier is killed in Iceland

and buried at sea. If I like breathing.

If I like coral. If I like liking the blue Earth.

If forests had lawyers. If trees were CEOS.

If CEOs were angels. If an angel falls from heaven,

comes to dinner, opens her chest, opens his mouth

and stars pour out. If heaven rises. If heaven prizes

canopy, understory, overgrowth. If appetite. If covet.

If capitalism is suicide by comfort. If shrug.

If "Will you look at the time." If I abet extinction.

If I am an accomplice to poof. If trees are green engines,

god of every heart and lung. If clear-cutting

is our brains proving they're knock-knock jokes.

If who's there. If too late. If a tree is planted.

If a forest is guarded by the Secret Service.

If another tree is planted. If a forest stars

in the next superhero movie and the sequel

and the prequel and ta-da. If breathe. If you.

If Eden. If grace. If the apple is the word apple.

If a species falls and no one is there to notice

it is us. If I take a knee. If I die before I pray

to wake. If I pray we wake before we die.

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Note: This poem is reprinted from Red Rover Red Rover (Copper Canyon Press, 2020).

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