Jess Burnquist

Treasure, Reverse

Our jacaranda tree has become a threat

No matter its lavender blooms–their delicate landings

Are a ruse. The road is only long for some and I want 

To make this as clear as possible to my son 

Holding the keys, pent-up with adolescent desire.

I stifle these thoughts instead and allow him to reverse

Into our driveway nine times–nearly hitting our neighbor

On the seventh attempt, and ignoring my questions 

About the electric reindeer that has appeared 

On our walkway. Something about his friends and a scavenger

hunt. Slow down, check the rear view, I say to the deer

Who is frozen and unblinking–as if it knows when 

The jacaranda might topple or the road–end.