Forester Even if fleeting, to be someone who treks the weedy hill as a nobody. Tree on the far field, a revelation. Secretly, I watch him on the mountain. I talk the voice of him I embody, even if fleeting, to be someone. Unsure, in search of, here I was hidden in cracked green glass, old commodity. Tree on the far field, a revelation, and then sawed through. I saw through the woodsman his hands rough and sapped to work my body. Even if fleeting, to be someone out in the dew-damp wilds, a creation. I jack, I slack, I clasp androgyny. Tree on the far field, a revelation. It speaks wood, it speaks a voice to summon the match flung to burn old property. Even if fleeting, to be someone’s tree on a far field, a revelation.
Jeffery Berg's (he/they) poems have appeared in various journals such as Pine Hills Review and most recently, Same Faces Collective. Jeffery lives between Jersey City and Provincetown and reviews films for Film-Forward. His debut poetry collection, Re-Animator, is forthcoming from Indolent Books in 2026.
