Stillicide

I have no dreams
A tree fell and crushed the taut strings
Outside the gate
A figure at the same place
Picks at the tar and waits for my house
His gasping question
How long will you survive?
After rain, stillicide drips from the roof
Into his old tin cans
I don’t see where he takes water
A paste, crushed leaves and spit
Is brought out
And painted on him, straining
I have no dreams
From the roof I hear him scream
The fishing lines that held me up
Are caught under the tree
I hope it rains enough to rot it quickly