A dream tree, Polly’s tree:
a thicket of sticks,
each speckled twig
ending in a thin-paned
leaf unlike any
other on it
or in a ghost flower
flat as paper and
of a color
vaporish as frost-breath,
more finical than
any silk fan
the Chinese ladies use
to stir robin’s egg
air. The silver-
haired seed of the milkweed
comes to roost there, frail
as the halo
rayed round a candle flame,
a will-o’-the-wisp
nimbus, or puff
of cloud-stuff, tipping her
queer candelabrum.
Palely lit by
snuff-ruffed dandelions,
white daisy wheels and
a tiger faced
pansy, it glows. O it’s
no family tree,
Polly’s tree, nor
a tree of heaven, though
it marry quartz-flake,
feather and rose.
It sprang from her pillow
whole as a cobweb
ribbed like a hand,
a dream tree. Polly’s tree
wears a valentine
arc of tear-pearled
bleeding hearts on its sleeve
and, crowning it, one
blue larkspur star.
I am currently analysing this poem for my grade 12 poetry assessment. It is such an interesting poem that has so many gaps for the reader to fill. For example, who si Polly? (Majority of people would automatically assume she is an young girl, but consider she may be an old woman reminising on her childhood, or a dream which she had. It could also be an animal that lives in the tree…)
Just something to think about 🙂
i like this poem because my name is Polly
I dont understand it, but I like trees
I like this poem but I don’t understand at all