Elegy Composed in the New York Botanical Garden
Catmint—tubular, lavender, an ointment
to blur the scar, bloom the skin. My mouth has begun
the hunt for words that heal.
In the garden, I am startled by a cluster
of sun-colored petals marked, Radiation.
Piles of radiation. Orange radiation, huddled together
like families bound by a hospital-bright morning.
And behind them: a force of yuccas
called Golden Swords. A bush or mound
of sheath-like leaves sprouting from a proud center.
And isn’t that the plot?
First the radiation, then the golden sword.
I remember, incurably,
your mother. The laughter that flowered
from her lips. I’m sorry I have no good words
to honor her war. It crumbled me to watch you
overwhelmed by her face
in the daffodils outside your childhood home.
|Oct 01, 2014||As a Portent||David Baker|
|Sep 30, 2014||Non-lieux||Erika Meitner|
|Sep 30, 2014||Weekend Guests from Chicago, 1945||Toi Derricotte|
|Sep 29, 2014||Names||Fady Joudah|
|Sep 28, 2014||The Haunted Palace||Edgar Allan Poe|
|Sep 27, 2014||To the Thawing Wind||Robert Frost|
|Sep 26, 2014||The Epistemology of Cheerios||Geffrey Davis|
|Sep 25, 2014||For the Scribe Gar.Una of Uruk, 3,000 B. C.||David Wojahn|
|Sep 24, 2014||Manic Panic||Marisa Crawford|
|Sep 23, 2014||These Days||Matthew Thorburn|