the tree of heaven is an invasive species it wants to know where you’ve been all night how to tell when you mean what you’re saying you tell it what you think it should know haze of wildfires miles away softens the rest it wears the scent of panic deferred it’s where the moon meets your pointing finger the tree of heaven is the smile of salesmen it promises days off beneath a crackling blue sky knows how hard you’ve been working, your strained sleep it offers to pray with you for forgiveness both of you might be going to hell but at least the tree of heaven knows how to keep its cool the night the kudzu takes your field you sleep like the dead