The Evil Tree tone: morbid, pessimistic, humorous subject: reincarnation, samsara form: improper sonnet
I died young in my other lives, because I'm brave, I said. Once, I was tossed from a ship at night, far from the shore Watching bombs, the lights explode over the city like fireworks. Once or twice, though, I died smiling in bed. Second, I fell asleep at the wheel, driving in traffic, through a winter storm. Third, the bad guys hid me in an excellent hiding spot, my own house, in the dark, and when I tried to run I fell, tripped on the evil tree's root. There were births, diseases, rotten teeth, endless labor, burning wands. Sometimes doctors, but mostly they collected our bodies for the public lab. Always a peasant, never a princess, also a criminal, also a witch. Once, my master punched me in the back of the head for mouthing off. Once, my own family dropped me off a cliff, a more than natural consequence. All these deaths, and never, ever, respite from the rest of it. I choose another, another life, and spin the wheel again. I die of cigarettes, I shoot myself, I hang myself and spin.
But I come back, a crying babe, to gamble once again.