The tree has fallen

in the middle of the yard,

cracked to quarters

during last night’s storm

which played its elegy

then left in a rush.

The angry lover flips

land on its back,

leaves the earth a stripped

and stained mattress.

Rain has reduced a crab

nestled by broken bark

to a small shell

rotting in the midday heat.

Children gawp

at its glistening armour,

imagine its claws break

men like molluscs,

then piece its home together,

splint by splint.

A gardener finally

announces its condition

to stop them photographing

the battered form

anyone could have

mistaken to be sleeping