"Rainforest" by Teresa Mei Chuc

Rainforest
by Teresa Mei Chuc

I close my eyes so that I can see it.
What we so freely eliminate. Who is

not guilty of it? We reek of paper.
Everywhere we go is paper. Our

hands are stained with paper.
Walls. What echoes from our walls.

The sweet whisper of rainforest—
even the name makes the sound of

rushing water or perhaps it’s a ghost
that haunts us. They say the dead

that did not die a peaceful death are
doomed forever to wander the earth.

But perhaps this earth is for them
already a cemetery—stacks and

stacks of flesh on a desk. Which
one belongs to which tree?

Already, we’ve traded oxygen for
so much.





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