Clear-Cut

Published in Cider Press Review.

It falls from my binder,
cherry crayon streaks
ripen in sun, LOVE RILEY—

a valentine from my son,
three weeks before he died,

cutout paper once a tree,
before its felling,
and reduction to pulp.

I pick up the heart,
hold it like a seed I’ll save

to grow an oak.
I couldn’t answer
his question,

Mommy, does paper
remember being a tree?