Author Charles Reznikoff I once tore up a sapling to make myself a stick:it clung to the earth, but I cut away its roots,stripped off its twigs and bark;a woman passing nodded her head as if to say, What a pity,and I had no joy of the stick and threw it away. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments