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.
|Apr 27, 2009||We Address||Norma Cole|
|Apr 25, 2009||Lion and Gin||Dennis Hinrichsen|
|Apr 24, 2009||[In Colorado, In Oregon, upon]||Joshua Beckman|
|Apr 23, 2009||In Knowledge of Young Boys||Toi Derricotte|
|Apr 22, 2009||Where Man Is in His Whole||Hannah Zeavin|
|Apr 21, 2009||The Luxury of Hesitation [excerpt from The Proof from Motion]||Keith Waldrop|
|Apr 20, 2009||Transit of Venus||Lyrae Van Clief-Stefanon|
|Apr 19, 2009||User's Guide to Physical Debilitation||Paul Guest|
|Apr 18, 2009||Hunger||Sarah Gambito|
|Apr 17, 2009||The National Interest||Ted Mathys|