Self-Portrait as Sumac in October

Call me weed tree. Call me

invasive. It’s true

I took over the side of this Loess hill.

I’m one of 35. I multiply.

I crowd. I grow through

bluestem, stretch over

lead plants. Look,

my red leaves shine. I drop

them onto Badger Ridge for you

who mistake them

for cardinal feathers.

Are you disappointed?

You used to point to my thin limbs,

strong and swaying. You used

to graze my reddening

and exhale. That was before.

Before you knew

my name. Before you heard

what I was capable of.

Don’t you know? Only

a lit match can stop me.