COUNSELOR: Poetry Crisis Line, what is your emergency?
CALLER: The trees inside are moving out into the forest,
COUNSELOR: That makes me sad, too, when it’s time to take the tree down.
CALLER: the forest–
COUNSELOR: Or are you afraid you might never see a poem that’s as lovely?
CALLER: –that was empty all these days
COUNSELOR: How can a forest be empty? I mean, if it’s empty, what makes it a forest?
CALLER: where no bird could sit / no insect hide
COUNSELOR: Oh, so you mean empty of living things? I mean, except that the trees are also living.
CALLER: no sun bury its feet in shadow
COUNSELOR: So it’s dark there, too? And empty? Is it also silent?
CALLER: the forest that was empty all these nights / will be full of trees by morning.
COUNSELOR: I see. But if they fall, will they make a sound?