The Poison Tree

I caught you near my poison tree
in search of bitter fruit
and watched you shake its heavy limbs,
well watered from the roots

Its leaves were wraiths of withered hate;
its branches tipped in rue
Its trunk knew naught of happiness,
its blossoms all untrue.

And yet you climbed its slippery bark,
worn thin and grey with pain;
You stripped the boughs of tender shoots,
destroyed by tainted rain

And when at last its blood stained fruit
you plucked with fingers red
you knew the kiss of sweet revenge
lay buried with the dead.