Carla Sofia Ferreira

City / Tree / Song

The sun hangs

like a sneaker suspended by its laces from a telephone wire /

and this tree, amidst soda cans and magazines, laughs so hard /

in the spring wears green leaves tangled in its branches /

cries so hard in the winter ice descends from its limbs /

and this tree who lives in the littered earth covered by city dirt /

this tree

who grows

in this square

patch of earth

in this shaking

dancing city /


its roots cling deep

to the shallow earth it has /

been granted

its branches reach high and far /

above bottle caps and beer cans and plastic bags

its green leaves waving /

and from root to canopy

it grows

and it grows

and it grows. //


Take me to this tree where the earth drinks bleach /

covered by the leftovers of the city and let me watch them grow. /

To all my unknowable questions, /

this tree is, after all, the only answer worth giving.


Carla Sofia Ferreira is a Portuguese-American poet and high school English teacher from Newark, NJ. Currently, she teaches English language development to first-generation immigrant students in the Bay Area. Past and forthcoming poems can be found at Awkward Mermaid, The Lascaux Review, and Shot Glass Journal. You can follow her on Twitter @csferreira08, though you have been warned that she uses an excess of emoji and gifs.

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