THE CEDAR TREE

By Luke Pingel

Mother…Mother, I’m caught. I can’t pull myself out of this dream. I’m underneath the

tree in our backyard. It doesn’t smell of cedar anymore. It smells of ash, of death.

Mother, do you remember putting the gashes over my head…where my head used to be?

They are marked: four foot six, four foot eight, and on and on. Sap is oozing out of the

grooves, but it feels slippery, like the oil on my fingertips. My fingers are covered in oil.

Mother, I can feel a breeze…I think it’s your breath. It’s levitating me.

Instantly, I am clinging to a flagpole…the wind carries my feet outward to the east.

Children are running below. I can see them. The men aren’t much bigger from up here.

They also run. My eyes follow a man who looks like the man who would be my big brother, if I had one. He is crying. He carries a gun. He runs out of my view, to the east, underneath my feet. Would you have named him Lucas instead of me, Mother?

I’m sweating, Mother. I can’t stop. My hands are slipping, a film of oil covers them. A bead of sweat is at the tip of my nose, hanging for a moment before plummeting to the earth. A tidal crash. A polyphonic buzz. A yellow haze of napalm stings my eyes but I watch anyway. Millions lay dead below me.

I let go of my post, my flagpole, but your breath keeps me elevated. I fall onto the back of a bald vulture. Her feathers are covered in tar, and I am stuck to them. We swoop down to the ground, now desolate, silent. The vulture picks at the carcasses, eating for both of us as if connected through an invisible umbilical cord. I become nourished, I become strong.

I heard your voice, Mother. You said, "This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?" The vulture turns her head, and I see your face, blood dripping from your ugly beak. I can’t let go. For a moment, I believe you.

There is something up ahead. You flip upside down, and I fall off, but I feel nothing. I watch you fly away, and I don’t say anything. I wonder if you cry, Mother? Did you cry when you dropped me at the cedar tree that day? The only thing still alive? All I can stand to watch is the tree as it slowly recedes into the earth, as if time has reversed. The gashes fall into the soil, now quicksand. I read the measurements aloud as they disappear…four foot six, four foot eight…until at last, I am left alone, my oily fingerprints stain the empty ground.

"The Cedar Tree" debuted February 28, 2003, performed by Luke Pingel.

Performed at No Shame Goes To War (Charlottesville), on March 21, 2003, performed by John Shirley.

Performed at No Shame Goes To War (Cedar Falls), on April 4, 2003. Performed by Luke Pingel.

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