Kiss and Tell with the Prince of Hell

Traditional greetings vary. Meeting someone famous, like Lucifer, is intimidating. Be yourself. Don't be nervous. Wear lip balm and give the Devil his kiss.


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Poetry by Gale Davis

A large old oak tree reaching across the ground.
Photo: RegalShave from Pixabay

Gnarled and misshapen,

weathered by living.

Lightning scorched and hollowed.

Pierced with initials.

It hangs low, arms in surrender to fierce winds.

Torrential rains have skinned it to the bones.

A textured face is now slick without character.

Midway, an orange tag signals REMOVE BY: a date follows.

A mere two words terminate life.

No reprieve, no appeal, no mercy —

just demolition.

Was there no objection or another solution?

My accusers — the planners say, it’s just an old tree.

“It’s in the way.”

I am old, but I still have a purpose. My gifts are free —

branches for nests, rest for flight weary birds.

Lover’s initials remain.

In my youth, I served as a billboard for lover’s,

never flinching as they carved

hearts with initials into my bark.

Soon their names will disappear with me.

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