Poetry: “Signature” by Holly Day

Theoretically, if I were to put my hand against that tree

and kept it there for years and years, the bark

would continue to grow until it enveloped my hand

send leafy tendrils along my arms and under my flesh.

But if I were to stand here for a little less time

I could pull my hand away from the tree and leave

only a handprint against its flesh, like a heart carved by lovers

slower than a knife.