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.
|Jul 28, 2014||Healthy Smiths||Jason Bredle|
|Jan 04, 2011||from Mesongs||Kamau Brathwaite|
|Oct 20, 2013||This is My Life||William Stanley Braithwaite|
|Sep 05, 2012||Poem||Joe Brainard|
|Mar 11, 2013||Life||Joe Brainard|
|Jul 10, 2010||Verses upon the Burning of our House||Anne Bradstreet|
|May 11, 2013||Before the Birth of One of Her Children||Anne Bradstreet|
|Jun 16, 2012||To Her Father with Some Verses||Anne Bradstreet|
|May 19, 2010||Why They Went||Elizabeth Bradfield|
|Apr 14, 2012||Poetry in Time of War||Rosalind Brackenbury|