From this day forward all plants
except the lemon tree
will be banished from my poems
From this day forward I am wedded to the sky
All clouds shall be banished
and my memory of them vanish
like memory itself
Not even a lime shall sneak in
Animals shall exit my poems
including those that cross the sky
in herds or as stragglers
Without plants, without animals
people cannot survive in my poems
so they too shall be sent,
those with shoes and those without
in a long line leaving
Leaving myself under the lemon tree
wedded to the sky
that is light then dark then light
Candles are forbidden
I will feel the terrible weight of twilight
as it falls over the land like a despondent minx,
words I might formerly have used for a squirrel
From this cretinous proposition
I shall write my poems
and try to reach those
who no longer exist
They are not in this poem or any other
From this day forward
I eat lemons in my park
Their complete similarity to me
can now be distinguished
To speak of my promise,
my offering to the sky,
puts a sprig in my mouth
Would this not then be my entry into society?
Copyright © 2018 Mary Ruefle. This poem originally appeared in Kenyon Review, September/October 2018. Used with permission of the author.