Tree Of &Quot;Repent&Quot; Poem by Cathryn Hankla

Painted letters drip red. "P" provides
an awkward sickle tacked to a stalk.
If we found canned peaches for sale

or fresh fuzz from Georgia, if this sign
meant produce or were simply a target
shot ragged, scarred bark shining through,

if fancy jars of quince sealed with wax
and mounds of beefsteak tomatoes awaited us,
if we were offered a modest map of salvation

in an unlikely spot, that would be welcome.
Way past midnight, it won't help to slow down
or speed. Our headlights find the sign

pitch-perfect. The tree of "rePent"
suggests its own necessity as cars slink
home. Tired drivers are not thinking

of or waiting for salvation. LO!—
this handmade inscription on a wooden slab,
admonition that balances a living tree.