Sunk Cost Fallacy

by nathaniel calhoun

a scattered flock of saplings fights for canopy space

chest high and grappling every path a trough of light

footprints those agreeable depressions catch

the death and scatter of little things

what makes an oak rub its branches together grin-

ding bark coarse until undefended arteries squeal—

pinned beyond a threshold of untanglement

and letting sickness in?

my bruises are yellowing pathways from talk

to touch—runnels rivulets soon soaking in

no longer stucco dry anything may be

not resuscitated exactly but renovated.