KYSO Flash
Knock-Your-Socks-Off Art and Literature
Issue 11: Spring 2019
Poem: 79 words

Live Oak

by Laton Carter

It’s not
I was birthed in the city.

The city came to me.

There was already a field. I was only
another accident, wild

as the brutal winter.
Planners came. They must have

seen in me something that withstands
the way time weathers a body.

Architects saw fit to configure structures
in complement to my arms and crown.

People commune inside concrete as I
reach skyward, while the building, no matter

what its contortion, does not breathe.



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