There is a song that Billie Holiday sang,
Concerning trees, she didn’t write it, but
When she sang, when she opened her mouth
It blew a sickening wind; ash, rope, the lowing
Branch-blacken fruit. It was a Southern pitch, particular
To that soil. When she sang it, you’d feel her fabric
Bleed, unjust notes turning flesh to butter, unscrewing
The cap between here and void, all sparrow and magpie
Calls, polluted. She’d sing this, night after night,
The last thing you’d hear before you’d drain your glass and walk
Back into the world, your city, your block, trees thrumming
Rough bark in an evening gown. Here ya go,

the bad Gardenia sang,
Listen to the strangle tree

Cornelius Eady, co-founder of the Cave Canem workshop, is a poet, playwright and singer/songwriter who currently splits his time between NYC and the University of TN-Knoxville. His poetry collections include Victims of the Latest Dance Craze, winner of the 1985 Lamont Prize; Brutal Imagination (a finalist for the 2001 National Book Award, and Hardheaded Weather.