The Living Bypass

By Janelle Esposito

"The Living Bypass"

I loom my arms, long and bark
Over the breezy bypass
Spectating
colors race by, with
Use of my green eyes

I cough up dust, it
Darkens my flesh, but
All I can do is gawk, at
These creatures,
whatever you are –
A constant flow of color –
Gliding across
smooth black path
In an instant, gone
While I am who I am
Only moved
By winds and rain,
Confined to my home

Forever the colors bleed together
my lazy eyes start to drift
until I hear screeching cries,
a sudden smack startles me
You are revealed, and
Dent my brother Spruce,
He keels over at the punch
In focus, more distinct –
Not just a color—
You are a machine,
Unnatural, now unmoving
And fatal to my kin.

Your relatives slow down,
And stare. Then speed on.


I wrote this poem last semester. My poems usually arise out of peculiar ponderings- this thought was even stranger than most I have. As I was riding back to school from spring break I started wondering what the trees looming over I-95 thought of all the cars driving by. It didn't seem strange to me at the time to be thinking about this, but when I told my friends later about this thought they looked at me queerly and called me a tree hugger (a title which I will happily take). This got me thinking about what primal peoples would think about modern roads and the nature running alongside them, which coughs up their pollution. If human qualities are transcribed to the natural landscape, what characteristics might a tree have? While writing this poem, the qualities I transcribed were much akin to primal people. I didn't think these trees would have a big grasp on technology. It is not familiar with what a car is- all they see is a stream of color and smoke. Therefore I tried to take all referentials to common technology out- except machine, (a very general term) which the tree feels an enemity to. Also, trees would have no concept of time, except maybe it notices what times of the day the traffic patterns change. Also the tree notices when the cars become individualized- they do not help each other, but just speed on. The tree on the otherhand has concern for his brother spruce.

I don't normally like to spell out the meanings of poems I write, but I found the connection between the tree character of this poem and oral connections too interesting not to address.