1951

Was it odd to be born?

Was it odd to be born 
when women wore rick-rack

& the sun was a bracelet of yes? 
  
When wind bent dandelions in puffy winglets, 
& wisdom did raise her voice & not say weed &

when the toad did raise its spikes at the same time 
                 as federal codes 
                      & the try-to-be-perfect raised its voice?

Did the clang of copper collectors & the too-many lawns 
                 begin in Arizona
 
while peel-paint steeples rose over dirt for the prism 
                                  of progress, 
            
                 minerals torn from mines with no mouths
but you had a mouth & sang early?

When nuclear testing began north of love
& the Remington computer was placed in office use,

when there was just as much beauty & sex as later,
while some lay down at drive-ins in Chevies on seats
                        the color of crushed 
                 berries & phone calls went up to a dime?

When Congress loaned money to countries because their grains had 
ancient fungus claviceps purpuria that caused 
          visions & swelling 
under the silent claw of the predator?

Was shame in you born before beauty? 
Was beauty was shame was beauty?

As white gravel spread under the white churches 
as silver sequins on danceless 
dresses tacked on each
                  “hanging by a thread”

                         like drops of sweat on horses at the city’s edge

while downcast daisies were mimicked on sisterly aprons 
       catching sugars from women making pudding from boxes 
                                  under swamp coolers

 with slightly mildewy pads in a breeze 
                      created for doing housework by yourself? 
  
Was it odd to be born when two 
types of purslane in the west were called weed, 
even agave used to make soap, 
though it was home to the yucca moth, central & sweet, its

terminal clusters piercing thunderheads over red pick-up trucks,

& lowly dogbane hiding from developers with sibling roots 
     of fungi with  “no downsides to pesticides”
                & florets like diamond periods on certain fonts           
                                                  also were called weed?

Was it odd to be born near hillsides with radars
         like baby ears of question marks 
                        
     under the silent claw of the predator,   
when mountains shook toward sabino canyons

& there was Jello salad at picnics?

Here from this century can you say
                 was it wild to be born?

Was there anything else like this, anything at all?