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 06, 2009||Ludwig Van Beethoven's Return to Vienna||Rita Dove|
|Apr 05, 2009||Goldfish Are Ordinary||Stacie Cassarino|
|Apr 04, 2009||Elegy for Sol LeWitt||Ann Lauterbach|
|Apr 03, 2009||corydon & alexis, redux||D. A. Powell|
|Apr 02, 2009||Unbidden||Rae Armantrout|
|Apr 01, 2009||Summer at Blue Creek, North Carolina||Jack Gilbert|
|May 06, 2008||Orion||Susan Gevirtz|
|May 05, 2008||After John Donne's "To his Mistress Going to Bed"||Lisa Russ Spaar|
|May 04, 2008||WHERE?||Kenneth Patchen|
|May 03, 2008||Now that no one looking||Adam Kirsch|