1. Almost, Marina, Almost Once, walking in the garden by the wood-- so close Under leaves, the ponderous weight of unlighted leaves On trees, I overturned the mandrake root and found 5 It'd grown in two; remember now, remember7 One for Me, for you? 0 my daughter My daughter I have no boat to build. 10 Zodiacs must come, they go, I yield. There are the seas-- no, no longer. Only time to slaughter 0 my daughter Hold my dry hand, lean lean, as the dandelion bloom 15 Of skeleton inflates; all is withered, each vine strangling, Dangling, collapsed within. All is late; Hold my dry hand Ice uncovers Icicles and cold lays on to cold. Spices of the Orient in my mind take hold. 20 I remember now I remember how; Surgeon, scalpel, suction tube, then a pill for ease... 0 my daughter 0 You have bit the mandrake root, does April stir and 25 Start in fits? Is twice too much for prayer? Layer on by layer, each thought uncovers brain; There is no pill for ease of pain. The mandrake is an ancient root Wearing none butwrinkled suit. 30 And now and now and now I shall hold your dry hand now For I have not held have not held it long. Zero may be warmed to naught, my daughter, Zero may be warmed 35 My daughter II. The Gardens In the shadowed garden, dim Remembered strains Played among the acorn shells, and left 40 Dampened hands on the plastered grain. Jonquils died in torrents That summer, how I regret Time's contingency, and Death's. We had letdown the curtains 45 That sheltered away the sun, And shelved it, Long ago. The house had tinkled like the rickets With the wind, long and orange Out of the west Our shadows 50 Grew into the trees like years, that summer. Our blue hands turning blue, until They were the trees and the trees Were still. All the days were beautiful, 55 And all the children sang. And all around the widening block The gossips snickered in; And all their blathering, chattering talk Could not 60 Prove the littlest sin. A box is a box is a box. Not even the littlest sin. I might go back outside, given Satisfactory incentives towards that move. I might 65 Reverse one summer's indiscretions, dear, If the picketfence of autumn Had not come. And only come to show How round the circuit of our fears Is expressed in every apple. I might 70 Have dressed the dolls with leaves again And set upon a stage Their small white forms in the white sun's Glare.
From the collection "Youth Youth Youth"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.