The Tree

The Birch trees stand alone in the yard

Gloriously white, the stand perfectly still as the wind gusts

Pristine, clean, pure, perfect,

they are intriguing and I get the urge to feel one

Getting closer, I notice the people on the other side

Their eyes meet my eyes and the trees begin to sink, melt

The ground begins to shake and these people aren’t people anymore

Their pupils are gone and their teeth are sharp

The melting trees become white snakes with ruby eyes

The trees are gone, the people are gone, and the nightmare ensues

I begin to run, but I go nowhere

I look behind me at the creatures with no pupils

They smile as they stand there,

They know that I will not be able to escape their white gaze

My body begins to ache and I stop

I realize I will never escape

The snakes slither around my ankles as the wind gusts once again

I close my eyes because I can’t look at the creatures any longer

The gust of wind dissipates, and I open my eyes

I am standing in front of the Birch Tree with my palm caressing its branch

Two brown speckles stare back at me

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This is the exhibit No Redemption Value at the CSULB School of Art Dutzi Gallery by Amy Williams. This is a mixed media installation.

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